


Let's Talk About Love

by 0_0whut0_0



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:18:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0_0whut0_0/pseuds/0_0whut0_0
Summary: Does your favorite pairing never get enough love? Do you wish to change that? Then you've come to the right place!





	1. Knitting Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me your favorite pairing!  
> This story is also on fanfiction, but someone threatened to report it... -_-

Hello all! I thought I would a little one shot series for Valentine's Day! I asked on my other stories (which you should totally check out btw) which pairings people would like to see, and in what scenario and the first one to respond was a guest for *drum roll*

Ameripan!

They didn't leave me a scenario, so I took the liberty of doing it myself… obviously…

(Also, I may have a head cannon where America secretly knits…. I mean, he was raised by England…)

Please leave a comment of who you would like to see, and in what situation. Thank you all so very much!

…

"Pleeeeease?"

"For the a millionth time Alfred, no!" Matthew hissed, glancing at the teacher at the front of the classroom. He turned back around in his chair, trying to turn his attention back to the book they were reading for their English assignment. Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness wouldn't read itself after all. He heard the annoying American sigh dramatically. He rolled his violet eyes.

And Alfred just. Kept. Sighing.

And it kept getting louder and more dramatic the longer Matthew ignored him, making it impossible for him to concentrate. Matthew turned back to Alfred behind him, his jaw clenched. "Why can't you do it, Alfred? I know that dad taught you." Matthew whispered.

Alfred's face turned bright red. "SHHH!" He shoved his hands into Matthew's face. "People can't know that I…" He looked around, as if someone actually cared to listen. "knit." Matthew grabbed his brother's hands and lowered them, frowning.

"And people can know if I do?" Matthew asked.

Alfred nodded vigorously. "Of course they can Mattie. No one can touch you, much less make fun of you with me or your boyfriend around." He said. He looked away shyly. "And, I don't want Kiku to know that I do something so girly."

Matthew rolled his eyes again. "It's not girly. And, it won't mean the same thing if I made it for him. Besides I have my plate full with Gilbert. He practically demanded that I make him something for Valentine's Day." Matthew said fondly. Alfred groaned and stuck his lower lip out in a pout. His head fell onto his desk. Matthew patted his brothers blonde hair. "And Kiku is bound to find out someday. I'm surprised he hasn't yet, actually."

Alfred looked at Matthew. "What do you mean?"

Matthew shrugged. "I mean, you guys have been dating for two months now, so I thought he would have found something in your room by now."

Alfred looked away. "Well, that could be because whenever he comes over I tell him it's yours, or I hide it in your room."

"Seriously?" Matthew deadpanned.

Alfred just shrugged helplessly.

"Jesus Alfred, just man up already." Matthew mumbled, turning back around. Then he got an idea. "It's a pity too, 'cause Kiku is always telling me how cold he is, and how he wishes he had a handmade sweater to keep him warm." He sighed, hoping he was being convincing. "I'm sure whoever gave him one would be his hero."

Alfred sat bolt upright in his seat. "A hero, you say?" He asked.

'Got him.' Matthew thought to himself with a smirk. "Yes." He said aloud. "A hero like he has never had."

"Well," Alfred stated. "If I would be his hero then…" He trailed off. "I'm gonna need to borrow some of your red wool Mattie."

"Alfred! Matthew!" The teacher snapped from the front of the classroom, finally taking notice of the brothers.

"Sorry Mr. Bondevik."

.

"Alfred, dear, are you hungry?" Arthur, the boy's' father asked, a little worried. Both had been in their rooms for days, only coming out for school and to use the bathroom. He opened the bedroom door when he didn't get an answer, and could have fainted from shock.

Alfred was sitting on his bed, balls of red and white wool surrounding him. His cerulean eyes were bloodshot, and his hands worked furiously on something that looked like a half done sweater. He was muttering to himself. Arthur only picked out a few words. "Hero… pearl… best fucking sweater…"

"Alfred?" Arthur said, touching his back. Alfred jumped about a foot into the air and shrieked like a little girl, making Arthur jump.

"Jeez dude…" Alfred gasped, holding his chest trying to calm down his pounding heart. Arthur blinked.

"I did knock." He muttered.

Alfred nodded distractedly and resumed his knitting. Arthur blinked. "Alfred?"

"HUH?! Oh, yeah dad?" Alfred jumped again.

"You need sleep, son." Arthur said gently. Alfred shook his head.

"But dad I can't sleep. I have to finish this Valentine's Day gift for Kiku." Alfred whined, his hands still quickly working.

"Alfred, that's in two weeks. You have time."

Alfred looked at his father desperately. "But…"

Arthur gently took the half finished sweater from Alfred, along with the wool, before placing a hand on Alfred's shoulder and laying him down and tucking him in. Alfred's eyes drooped. "Daaaad, I can't…"

Arthur crept out of the room as quietly as possible. When he had shut the door, he shook out the sweater. It was farther along than he thought it was. All that was left was the bottom. Arthur made a face. "This is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen."

.

Alfred took a deep breath. Today was the day. The day when he would give Kiku his gift. The day Kiku would find out that he… knit. His hand tightened around the package. Everyone else around him were handing off other gifts, mostly chocolates. Alfred gasped. He should have gotten chocolate too! Just in case Kiku didn't like the sweater. Alfred glanced the clock and frowned. He couldn't go now or he would be late for homeroom. He looked at the wrapped red sweater. The paper was bright pink and covered in hearts. Oh, God… He couldn't do this. He turned to find a trash can but stopped when someone called his name.

"Alfred- san?" Alfred mentally cringed. Of course. Just when he resolved not to give the thing to Kiku, Kiku shows up. He turned around, putting the gift behind his back. He smiled, hoping he didn't look suspicious.

"Kiku!" He said happily. Kiku raised an eyebrow. Usually Alfred would be all over him by now, but for some reason Alfred was keeping his distance. "How are ya?" Alfred asked.

Kiku took a step closer, and Alfred took two steps back. Kiku would be lying if he said that didn't hurt a little. "I'm fine, I suppose." He said, walking towards Alfred, who kept backing up. "What are you hiding behind your back?" He asked leaning to the side to try to see.

Alfred gulped and rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, I have no idea what you are talking about." He said nervously. His stomach dropped when he felt the locker behind him. Kiku had trapped him.

"Is it a gift?" He asked, his head cocking to the side. Alfred blushed. Kiku was too cute sometimes.

"Yes." Alfred mumbled, knowing that he couldn't lie to him. But he didn't have to say tell the complete truth either.

Kiku nodded. "Is it from someone else?"

Alfred looked appalled, and was too shocked to speak. "I… I would never-"

Kiku smiled. "I wouldn't mind. In Japan, guys always got a lot of chocolate by different people." Then dark eyes lit up. "That reminds me, I made you some." He searched in his bag for a moment, and brought out a small wrapped package and held it in front of Alfred. Alfred blinked at the little bag and sighed in defeat.

He shoved the gift behind his back at Kiku and took the chocolate in one swift movement.

"It's not from someone else. It's from me, to you." Alfred muttered, looking anywhere but at Kiku. The floor was looking rather nice today.

He heard the distinct sound of paper tearing, then a small gasp. Yes, the floor was really, really nice today. Very um… clean. "Alfred san… did you make this?"

Alfred rubbed his neck. "My dad taught me when I was little, and I know that it's probably super lame and girly, and you don't have to wear it or any-"

"I love it."

Alfred's eyes snapped up. "Really?"

Kiku smiled softly, making Alfred's heart skip a beat. He nodded. Alfred's grin gave the sun a run for its money, it was so bright. "I really like the little plate of sushi on the sleeve, and the Japanese flag in the middle." He said, already slipping the bright red thing over his head.

The sleeves were far too long and the bottom hung around his knees, but it was warm and it was made by Alfred.

Alfred grabbed his boyfriend's hand and kissed his cheek, making Kiku's face turn cherry red at the public display of affection. "Happy Valentine's Day, Kiku." He said softly against Kiku's ear. Kiku could have melted then and there, but he just nodded and hid his face in his hand as Alfred guided them hand in hand down the hallway, smiling the entire way.

…

Dey so cuuuute. I wrote this at 1 am. Also this is my first one shot ever.

I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review of who you would like to see next!


	2. The Tale of the Oblivious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chappie's characters were chosen by ravengal! Thank you for commenting, and giving me TWO pairings. We are going to go with your first pairing oooooof
> 
> GerIta!
> 
> But fret not, your other pairing will come soon enough!
> 
> Please fav and review!

The Tale of the Oblivious

…

Ludwig never was the type to notice people's looks. He hardly cared for anyone's personality either. As long as the people around him worked hard, he was content. That isn't to say that he had no friends to speak of.

He had Kiku, a quiet, reserved kid that worked diligently and never made any noise of complaint. Arthur, the student body president, was the same way, though he did get a bit loud when around a certain Frenchman.

And then there was Feliciano.

Ludwig and Feliciano had been friends since they were children, when Feliciano moved in next door with his Grandfather and older brother. They had been in the same class every year, Feliciano somehow making it into every advanced class along with Ludwig. Feliciano was the only reason that Ludwig believed in the term; opposites attract. Where Feliciano was warm and bubbly, Ludwig was serious and about as bubbly as cold water.

"Ve~ Luddy, everybody seems so excited for some reason." Feliciano chirped from Ludwig's side, clinging onto his arm. Ludwig felt his face get warm, something that was happening more and more often around the brunette boy.

"It's" Ludwig coughed to clear his throat, "It's Valentine's Day next week." Feliciano opened his amber eyes and looked up at Ludwig, who was looking forward to avoid running into anyone. Feliciano smiled softly, and looked ahead.

"Valentine's Day…" He mumbled to himself. Then he hummed. "Maybe someone will get me some chocolate this year." He giggled when Ludwig's eyes snapped down to him. "Of course, I'll be giving some to the person I love!" He yelled happily, running ahead.

Ludwig stayed behind, blinking in shock.

Feliciano loved someone? Who? Why hadn't he noticed? Were they already together? Why hadn't he told him?

Ludwig gripped his chest at the unexpected pain he felt. New questions popped into his head.

Why did his chest hurt? Why did he feel so sad, and… betrayed? He was even more confused when he thought; Why isn't it me?

.

Ludwig groaned and face- planted onto his bed. He was such a coward. He had avoided Feliciano,which to major effort in and of itself, for the rest of the day. He hadn't known whether to feel accomplished or guilty when Feliciano had stopped trying to get his attention by the middle of the day. Right now, he was choosing guilty.

He sighed when someone knocked on the door. "Go away." He said, knowing who it was. Gilbert opened the door anyway.

"What's going on West?" Gilbert asked, jumping on the bed next to Ludwig's head. "Feliciano got you down?" He asked in mock concern. Ludwig sat up and sighed again.

"Holy shit, was I right?" He asked surprised. Then he gasped. "Are you guys finally together?" He gasped louder. "Are you having a lovers quarrel?!" He asked, leaning into Ludwig, his smile wicked and his red eyes gleaming. Ludwig rolled his eyes.

"No Gilbert. We aren't." He blinked. "What do you mean finally?"

Gilbert leaned back onto his hands. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows that you guys have liked each other since the first grade." Ludwig looked down, blushing madly. Then he felt his heart drop.

"Too bad Feliciano likes someone else."

Gilbert raised a silver eyebrow. "What?"

"Feliciano said he was going to give chocolate to the person that he loves." Ludwig said dejectedly. "If he liked me, why would he tell me?"

Gilbert facepalmed. Sometimes he worried about his brother. He was about as dull as a spoon. Especially when it came to emotions… and people. "He was obviously dropping a hint. He wants you to get excited. Besides Feliciano never hangs around anyone else besides you like that." Gilbert said, waving his hand dismissively.

"But…" Ludwig started. "How do you know?"

Gilbert put a hand to his puffed up chest. "Luddy, I have been dating Birdie for four long years, you could call me an expert on all things love." He snickered. "That, and it's sooo obvious it hurts."

"Are you sure he likes me Gil?" Ludwig asked, starting to smile.

"Would the awesome me ever lie to you?"

"Yes."

Gilbert scoffed. "Rude." Then his eyes softened and he put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Trust me. He likes you and no one else."

Ludwig smiled and finally nodded.

The doorbell rang, and Gilbert practically flew out of the room at mach speed.

"BIRDIE, MY LOVE!"

"Sh- shut up, Gil."

.

If Ludwig thought he felt guilty before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Feliciano came to class late, and he looked terrible. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot. His face was flushed, and his auburn hair was a complete mess. He wouldn't make any eye contact with Ludwig, and as soon as the bell had rung he ran out of his seat so fast Ludwig barely had time to blink.

This happened for every. single. class.

He was so desperate by the end of the day to get Feliciano to talk to him that he texted his brother and his brothers friends to keep an eye out for him, and to catch him if necessary. He needed to talk to the little Italian, if only the Italian would give him a chance.

.

He was standing in the courtyard for his free period, trying to catch his breath after chasing Feliciano through the school when he heard angry mumbling and familiar whining.

"Noooo, please fratello, let me gooo." Ludwig glanced around the corner and his heart skipped a beat. Feliciano was being dragged by his wrist towards Ludwig by none other than his older brother Lovino. When Feliciano made eye contact with Ludwig, he struggled harder to get out of his grasp. "Please, Lovino, don't make meeee." He cried, digging his heels into the ground.

Lovino ignored his younger brother and spoke straight to Ludwig. But this couldn't be right. Lovino hated Ludwig.

"Hey, Potato Bastard." He grumbled, yanking Feliciano along. "Give me your hand." He commanded. When Ludwig just stood there in shock, Lovino sighed angrily and snatched Ludwig's hand from his side and put it onto Feliciano's wrist. "Hold." He snapped. This time Ludwig did what he asked, taking Feliciano's slim wrist into his hand. Feliciano seemed to give up and wouldn't look up.

Lovino took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. Ludwig looked at the older boy, confused. Lovino rolled his eyes. "Do I have to fucking do everything?" He asked, and Ludwig opened his mouth, only to close it again. Lovino threw his arms up in defeat. "You two. Talk."

Feliciano sighed sadly and let his shoulders drop. Ludwig frowned. "Jesus, you two are so dense." Lovino sighed. Then his brown eyes snapped to Ludwig. "Potato Bastard, do you like Feliciano, more than a friend?" He practically yelled, getting fed up with this whole process. Feliciano stiffened, expecting the worst while Ludwig's face turned tomato red.

"I… um… well, I…" He trailed off. He looked down at Feliciano, and felt his stomach twist in guilt. "Yes. I do." Feliciano gasped and his head flew up, his eyes unsure.

"Y- you do?" He asked, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Ludwig rubbed the back of his head.

"Since first grade." He mumbled. "Apparently…" He said.

Tears fell down Feliciano's face, and Ludwig panicked. "W-Why are you crying?" Then Feliciano did the last thing Ludwig expected, and punched him in the stomach. For such a small person, Feliciano still packed a punch. And he kept punching him.

"TH- THEN W-WHY WERE YOU AVOIDING MEEE?" Feliciano sobbed. "Y-YOU'RE SO STUPIIIID." He cried. Ludwig caught Feliciano's hands in his and pushed his body to the smaller one, holding him.

"I'm sorry. When you said you loved someone, I thought you meant someone else, and I got jealous." His eyes widened and he pushed Feliciano away and held by his shoulders. "You did mean me right?"

Feliciano finally smiled, though tears still fell freely from his amber eyes. "Of course I meant you. And when you avoided me, I th-thought you h- hated me." He hiccuped. "Y- you don't hate me d- do you?" He asked, panicked.

Ludwig brought Feliciano's face to his, and laid a soft kiss onto his salty lips. "I couldn't never hate you Feliciano." He whispered. Feliciano smiled brighter than the sun and hugged Ludwig so hard the bigger man stumbled. Ludwig felt Feliciano freeze.

"Are you alright?"

"W- we seem to have attracted an audience. Ludwig spun around, and felt blood rush to his already red face.

Gilbert, Lovino, Antonio, Francis, Arthur, Kiku, and even Matthew were standing behind them, and all were smiling having witnessed the entire event.

Gilbert spoke first, his smile wicked. "You are never gonna live this down, brother." He said, slinging an arm around Matthew.

Ludwig glanced at Feliciano who giggled in response with everyone else, and he found that he couldn't care less about his brother's threat. He leaned down to Feliciano's ear.

"Happy Valentine's Day Feli."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaahhhh, they ARE so dense.
> 
> Thank you again to ravengal for leaving me that review and a pairing. I hope you liked it!
> 
> Remember to leave me a review of you YOU want to see getting some love.
> 
> Until next time!


	3. It's Not so Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE NEXT PAIRING HAS BEEN DECIDED BY CrystalGem18!
> 
> FrUk!
> 
> Thank you sooo much for reviewing! It took me forever to start this one… I just… I don't even know. I hope this one turns out okay.

It's Not so Bad

…

Francis could remember Arthur moving into his home like it was yesterday. Arthur used to be shy, reserved, and quiet when he was a child. He was careful with everything, and always flinched when he thought he did something wrong. He even cried when Francis' father got angry at some sport on the t.v. and raised his voice. It took hours for his mother to console him, and for him to stop blubbering.

Francis hadn't liked him very much back then. He was forced to share all of his toys, and even his room. He drew the line when his mother asked him to share his bed for the first few days or until they got him a bed of his own after he arrived, and made the smaller boy sleep on the ground. His mother was furious of course, but he didn't care. It was his bed, why should he have to share anything?

After his two spankings, one for making Arthur sleep on the floor, and one for talking back, he asked his mother when Arthur would be leaving, and why he was staying there. She looked real sad and told him that Arthur wouldn't be leaving because he didn't have a happy home. When Francis asked what she had meant, she told him that Arthur's father liked to yell and give a lot of spankings.

Francis let Arthur have his whole bed that night.

After a few weeks Arthur began to come of out of his shell more and more. He overheard his mother say it was because he knew he was safe. Francis liked it better when Arthur was a cry-baby, because now Arthur would call him names like 'Frog' and 'Frenchie' whenever Francis was mean to him, and Francis wasn't sure he liked that very much.

Nevertheless the boys grew up together. They became the best of friends and the worst of enemies. They grew up very differently too. Francis grew his hair out like his father's, and he wore nice clothes that Arthur liked to call 'feminine'. Arthur dyed his hair green, and wore band tee's and piercings in his ears. They hung out with very different people and wouldn't even look at each other during school. Francis found his two best friends in middle school, Antonio and Gilbert. They became known as the infamous Bad Touch Trio around the school, and they were each known for their rumors. Francis' being that he would sleep with anyone or anything, though his friends knew he had only slept with two people, and it had been with full consent. Still, became known as the playboy or the 'touch' in the trio. It would have been Gilbert, but everyone knew he was too devoted to his boyfriend to even look at someone else.

Arthur had a difficult time fitting in, but he eventually found his place with the theatre kids, oddly enough, and despite his looks became the student body president in both middle school and high school. Despite never meeting up during school, they always walked home together. If one had a club, the other would wait. And though Arthur complained, he kept waiting for Francis, and Francis knew he really didn't mind.

Francis didn't know when he started to have those kinds of feelings for his best friend, but he noticed them one day while he and Arthur were sitting on a bench after school eating ice cream. They were in tenth grade at the time, when Arthur still had green hair. He had found that couldn't look away from Arthur's pink tongue as it flicked out to lick up the thick ice cream. He had thought his chest was going to burst from how hard his heart was pounding. When Arthur glanced at him, he looked away quickly and kept to his own ice cream, though his face burned.

That was two years ago. Now it was their Senior Year, and Francis was running out of time to tell Arthur how he felt. Good thing Valentine's Day was soon, though there was another problem with that.

Arthur hated Valentine's Day.

.

Francis sighed for the millionth time, and half heartedly gnawed on a piece of chicken that was too dry and too salty. Antonio and Gilbert looked at each other uncomfortably, hoping the other would say something to their down hearted friend. Antonio broke first and coughed, gaining Francis' attention. "What's wrong, amigo?" He asked, and Gilbert face-palmed. Francis put his fork down and gave his Spanish friend a withering look. When Antonio just stared at him, clueless as ever, Francis sighed again.

"Arthur is what is wrong." He said, putting his cheek into his hand. When Antonio still looked confused Gilbert jumped in.

"You still haven't told him how you feel?" He asked, shoving the disgusting chicken into his mouth in one go. A soft voice spoke up next to Gilbert, surprising them all.

"Gilbert don't shove food into your face." Matthew asked setting his food down next to Gilbert across from Francis. He gave the usually energetic teen a concerned look. "Told who how you feel?" He asked.

Gilbert, after he finished chewing, slung his arm around Matthew's shoulders. "Arthur."

Matthew's violet eyes widened. "Arthur?" Francis sighed and nodded before his head fell onto the table. Matthew looked at Gilbert confused. "But don't they always fight? I've never even seen them speak to each other inside of school. I know they live together, but Francis, you like him?"

Matthew and Gilbert might have been dating for nearly five years, but it was only recently that Matthew felt comfortable being around Antonio and Francis like friends.

Francis looked up to Matthew, his blue eyes shining. "No, Matthew." Matthew blinked, completely lost. "I love him with all my heart." He whined and slammed his head back onto the table.

Matthew blushed a bit. "Why haven't you told him?"

Antonio perked up. "Yeah. If you like him so much, then why haven't you told him?" Everyone at the table stared at Antonio, even Matthew. "What?"

"Well, first off," Francis began. "You should know that I have no idea whether or not Arthur even likes me, and secondly you shouldn't be telling me to confess when you can't tell a certain fiery Italian how you feel." He spat. Antonio rolled his eyes.

"You know how Lovi is, he takes awhile to warm up to people." He chirped. "And you can get anyone in the school, so why is talking to Arthur so hard?"

Francis sat up with a dreamy expression on his face. "Arthur isn't just anyone. He's feisty, determined, smart, and not to mention adorable despite his ridiculous eyebrows." He sighed. Gilbert made a gagging motion, and Matthew smacked him upside the head. "I just don't know what to do." He said miserably.

Matthew bit his lip. "M- Maybe I could help." He whispered. Francis' eyes whipped to the quiet blondes. He grabbed Matthew's hands into his own, ignoring Gilbert's death glare.

"Tell me everything."

Matthew smiled softly and tugged his hands away before leaning forward conspiratorially, Antonio and Gilbert following. "Well, you know how I sometimes write the scripts for small skits…"

.(One Week Later).

Arthur was working at his desk in the office when someone knocked softly on the door. "Come in." He called. He frowned deeply when none other than Francis walked through the door holding a thin folder. "What do you want, Frog?"

Francis paid no mind to the nickname and sat in the chair across from Arthur. Arthur sighed. "I'm very busy getting ready for this stupid Valentine's Day dance."

Francis nodded. "Yes, I know." He said, getting comfortable. He held up the folder and handed it to Arthur, who took it suspiciously. Francis was acting strange. Usually he would have said some sort of insult about his eyebrows by now, but he just looked nervous.

"What's this?" Arthur asked, opening the folder. He recognized the format of the paper inside instantly. "A script?"

Francis gulped and nodded. "Matthew thought it would be interesting if the dance included a small skit, and wrote up a script for you to look at."

Arthur lifted a thick eyebrow. "Why wouldn't he tell me, but tell you?"

Francis shrugged, and took the folder back. "He said he wanted you to read it aloud so that you would get a feel for the characters." Francis slid one of the scripts out of the folder and gave it to Arthur while he kept the second one for himself. Arthur sighed.

"Can't we do this later?" He half whined. "I'm so busy as it is. I need to get these papers handed in by tomo-"

"No!" Francis snapped. Arthur looked at him surprised. Francis cleared his throat. "M-Matthew is expecting an answer by the end of today." He lied.

Arthur tilted his head back and groaned, and Francis had to hold onto the chair to keep himself from jumping Arthur right then and there. "Fine." He conceded, opening the cover page of the script. "Still don't understand why you're here and not him, but okay." He mumbled as his eyes scanned the paper. "I suppose you'll be character A?"

"No, I will be character F." Francis said loudly. Arthur squinted at Francis suspiciously.

"Alright."

Francis cleared his throat and adjusted in his seat. He had never felt so nervous, and he got a little annoyed with himself. 'I can flirt with everyone else without hesitation! Why is this so hard?'

He opened his mouth to start when Arthur cut him off, sputtering. Francis looked at Arthur and raised an eyebrow. Arthur's face was bright red and he was standing. "Are you al-"

"We can't do this skit!" He shouted, moving away from Francis, his eyes anywhere but on Francis. Francis' heart dropped.

He stood as well. "Why?" Arthur backed away from his desk.

"I- It's got our names in it." He said quietly. Francis' eyes widened and looked at his own script, and was immediately confused. In his script any time the character's name were mentioned it was A and F. He looked at Arthur's, and his stomach dropped. His version had started off using A and F, but as it got closer to the bottom, A became Arthur, and F became Francis. He had given Arthur the wrong script. Arthur meanwhile backed himself into a corner, muttering to himself. "Th- there's got to be a mistake. Matthew must have given you the wrong scripts… but why would he have our names in a script together in the first place?" He asked, looking at Francis, his emerald eyes wild.

Francis sighed and laid the folder down on the desk before stepping around it, and walking towards Arthur, his blue eyes blazing.

He stopped a few inches from Arthur. "It wasn't a mistake."

Arthur made a sound like all the breath had been knocked out of him. "What?" He asked. Francis took a step closer. He put a hand on the wall next to Arthur, who flinched.

"What did you read?" Francis asked, his sweet breath ghosting over Arthur's face.

"I- I read uhm." Arthur stuttered. "Francis t-takes Arthur's h- hand and kisses it, his eyes never le -leaving the others e- eyes." His voice shook, and his face burned. He felt as though he were going to explode, and what Francis did next didn't help things.

Francis gently tugged Arthur's hand from his side and slowly lifted it to his soft lips. His blue eyes never left Arthur's green ones. Arthur's breath hitched. "Wh- what are you doing?" He whispered.

"What else did you see?" Francis asked, coming ever closer to Arthur.

Arthur gulped. "Francis leans c- closer to Arthur and says "M-my love for y- you grows ever fonder by the day. I c- can no longer bear to be apart fr- from you, my dear A- Arthur." He swore his face was going to melt when Francis touched his cheek with burning fingers. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Francis'.

"My love for you grows ever fonder by the day." Francis whispered, his lips softly sweeping over Arthur's. "I can no longer bear to be apart from you, my dear Arthur." Arthur's eyes dropped to Francis' lips then back to Francis' burning azure gaze.

"F- Francis?" He breathed. Francis hummed softly, tugging Arthur gently towards him until their mouths connected. Arthur inhaled sharply, but didn't push Francis off like he thought he would. Instead he wrapped his thin arms around Francis' shoulders and kissed Francis back. Francis hummed against Arthur's mouth, and Arthur opened his mouth, greedily taking in Francis' essence. It was of roses and chocolate, and everything Arthur wanted it to be.

Francis wrapped his arms around Arthur's slim waist and and lifted him. Arthur wrapped his legs around Francis, moaning softly into the others mouth. Francis separated himself from Arthur for air. He couldn't help but smile when he saw the mess he had made of Arthur, who was panting and completely red faced. "What else did it say?" He whispered, his voice husky.

Arthur put his forehead onto Francis' and smiled, making Francis' heart flutter even though it was already pounding. "Arthur leaned into Francis embrace and laughed; I suppose Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all." Arthur said chuckling. He kissed Francis' cheek . "I suppose it's not after all." Arthur brought Francis face closer to his and kissed him like his life depended on it, and Francis laughed against the others mouth.

Needless to say, Arthur didn't get those papers done.

.

"So, Birdie, do you think it worked?" Gilbert asked, swinging his and Matthew's hand between them.

"Oh, I know it did." He said, a smug smile on his face. Gilbert looked at his boyfriend suspiciously.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing much. I might have just slipped a name or two into Arthur's script."

Gilbert's eyes widened. "You didn't."

Matthew shrugged. "Arthur told me he liked Francis a long time ago. He just needed one final push."

Gilbert snickered. "I bet Franny's pushing something somewhere."

The sound of a slap echoed into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Took. Hours…
> 
> Anywaaaays. I hope you liked it CrystalGem18! Thank you again for your review!
> 
> Remember folks. If you want to see a certain pairing get some loving, then all you gotta do is leave a comment!
> 
> Thank you! Goodnight!


	4. Five Years and a Sneeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS! I STAYED UP TILL 3 AM.
> 
> Anyways, two people have requested this pairing, and I am so excited. The Forgotten Traveller and a Guest (and yes… the snow… in the North… -_-) have requested:
> 
> PruCan! (MY OTP)
> 
> This one is going to be like a 'memory' of the how Matthew and Gilbert got together sort of thing, just to shake things up a bit.

Five Years and a Sneeze

…

Matthew didn't start out liking Gilbert. At all. That was mostly Gilbert's fault, actually.

When Matthew had transferred to Hetalia Middle School in the 6th grade, Gilbert had still been insecure about who he was, and how he looked, and wasn't fully out of the closet. He had a foot out if anything. He was only twelve and hadn't known how to cope with the feelings he was having as soon as he laid eyes on the quiet blonde.

He didn't understand why his chest hurt whenever Matthew was around, or why his face got red whenever Matthew spoke to him in his light and whispery voice. Gilbert didn't know what to do with all of these strange feelings and weird aches, so he did what he did in Elementary School when he liked some chick who thought she was a boy. He pulled Matthew's hair, called him names, and shoved a sweaty cloth in his face asking if he wanted to use it. He did it daily for about a whole year, hoping that Matthew would notice him, and start to like him back.

It had the opposite effect, much to Gilbert's surprise. Matthew had been walking in the hallway, talking to his brother, when Gilbert ran up behind him and pushed him down. Usually Matthew would have stayed on the ground while Gilbert laughed and laughed, but this time, Matthew had had enough.

Almost as soon a he was down, he sprang back up, and tackled Gilbert to the ground. Matthew had landed two punches to Gilbert's face before Alfred had been able to get Matthew off. Gilbert laid there, completely shocked. He flinched when he heard Matthew shout at him. He had told Gilbert to leave him alone, and that he never wanted to see him again. Gilbert was completely confused. That always worked on the girls in elementary, why hadn't worked on Matthew?

He had no other choice. He had to go to the expert.

…

The expert, of course, was his friend Francis Bonnefoy. He had already had six girlfriends and at least on boyfriend by the middle of the year. Francis had told him to apologize, and Gilbert couldn't believe his ears.

Him? Apologize? He was far too awesome for things like that… But… He couldn't stand that Matthew wouldn't even look at him anymore.

So he hung his head and let go of his pride.

On the first day of 7th grade, Gilbert begged for Matthew's forgiveness in front of the whole student body in the cafeteria.

.

"The rest is history." Gilbert said, squeezing Matthew's hand, smiling widely. They were sitting at lunch, seniors in high school, telling the story of how they first met to Feliciano and Arthur.

Matthew rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. Arthur crossed his arms.

"No, it isn't." He said, raising an eyebrow.

Gilbert looked away from Matthew and glared at Arthur. "What do you mean, Eyebrows?" He asked.

"You haven't told us how you asked Mattie out the first time!" Feliciano jumped in, clapping happily. Gilbert looked at Feliciano, betrayed. Feliciano continued undaunted by the sharp red eyes. "Or about your first date!"

Matthew slapped a hand over his mouth and snorted. Gilbert's cheeks turned a light pink. Arthur smirked. "This is gonna be good."

Gilbert sighed and delved back into the story.

.

It had been a year since Gilbert and Matthew became friends. They did everything together. Eating, playing, homework. Gilbert soon came to realize that Matthew wasn't as quiet or reserved as he had originally thought he was. As they spent more and more time together, Matthew became more and more comfortable with Gilbert, and let his personality shine through.

Matthew wasn't a pushover and would speak his mind. If he didn't like something he would say it. He wasn't afraid to smack Gilbert when Gilbert did something stupid. He was funny and sweet and Gilbert couldn't have fallen more in love. The only problem now was to tell Matthew, and make him go out with him.

Good thing Valentine's Day was just around the corner. Too bad it was snowing.

Gilbert had never liked the snow. He never really liked any temperature under 60 degrees Fahrenheit. (About 15 degrees C). But he knew that Matthew loved it. So, with a stiff upper lip, he marched over to Matthew's house in his thick winter coat and scarf and asked him to play. It was in the middle of making a snowman that Gilbert popped the question.

"Hey, Mattie?" He asked, patting the snow down on the bottom of the snowman, trying to sound indifferent, but his voice shook he was so nervous.

Matthew lifted the second giant ball of snow onto the bottom and pat it down. "Yeah, Gil?" He asked softly, smiling at Gilbert sweetly.

Gilbert coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "D- Do you wanna, I dunno, go somewhere with me?"

Matthew stopped rolling up the head of the snowman. "Sure. When?"

Gilbert smiled, hope blooming in his chest. "I was thinking, maybe the 14th?" Matthew froze.

"I- Isn't that… V- Valentine's Day?" Matthew mumbled, his cheeks turning red and not from the cold. Gilbert's heart started to drop.

"Oh. Yeah. It is." He said half heartedly, trying to pretend that he didn't know.

Matthew scratched his head, his heart pounding. "U- Um…" He started. Gilbert looked at the ground.

"Y- you don't have to come." His eyes started to water. "I was just wondering." He sniffled. "I- I'll leave you alone now. Sorry." He choked out. He turned to walk away when Matthew grabbed his wrist. His eyes snapped up to meet Matthew's violet ones.

Matthew's face was cherry red and his eyes wouldn't meet Gilbert's. "I… I would love to go on a d- date with you," He whispered. "I- if that's what you are asking." He rushed out.

Gilbert gasped and hugged Matthew. "Thank you Mattie!" He yelled, and his heart thrummed with happiness when Matthew hugged him back. He separated from Matthew and held him by his shoulders. "Meet me at McDonalds on the 14th at 5 pm sharp!" He said excitedly. He let go of Matthew and ran home to iron out the rest of his plans for his first date with Matthew.

.

"Wait, wait, wait." Arthur said, stopping Gilbert from continuing.

Gilbert sighed in annoyance. "Yes, Bushy Brows?"

"You went to McDonald's for your first date?" Both boys nodded. "What are you, Alfred?"

Matthew spoke up. "What do you expect? We were only 13-"

"I was 14." Gilbert cut in.

"13 and 14. We couldn't exactly afford to go anywhere else." Matthew finished.

Feliciano giggled. "My grampa told me that he and his first date went to a party they weren't invited to because neither had any money."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Gilbert mumbled. Matthew shook his head.

"Back to the story, Gil."

"Right, the first date…"

.

Gilbert knew there was a reason that he never went into the snow. On the days leading up to the date Gilbert started to feel sick. His nose got stuffed up and his throat itched. He had hoped he would get better by the time the 14th rolled around, and had even stayed home a few days from school to try to get better. But alas. When he opened his eyes on the 14th, his head pounded and his eyes watered.

But he refused to cancel his first date with Matthew. He had worked too hard.

So by the time 5 pm rolled around, he was heavily medicated and ready for his date. If only his mother was. She was notorious for always being late, and she wasn't gonna let that reputation go it seemed. By the time they got to McDonalds it was 5:15 and Matthew was already waiting in a booth.

Gilbert ran inside on wobbly legs and plopped across from Matthew who smiled his sugary sweet smile, and never mentioned Gilbert's lateness. Though he did comment on Gilbert's appearance. "Are you okay, Gil?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

Gilbert sniffed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" He asked.

"Your eyes are all puffy and you're paler than normal." He leaned forward and put his hand on Gilbert's forehead. "Gil, you're burning up!" He said, worried.

"I'm fine, Mattie." He assured him. "Let's just order our food, okay?"

Matthew chewed his lip but agreed. They ate in a slightly awkward silence until Matthew asked him Gilbert a question.

"S- So, when did you start liking me, more than a friend?"

Gilbert put down the fry in his hand, and his cheeks turned pink. "Um, actually, since I first saw you actually."

Matthew blinked surprised. "But…" He shook his head. "You were so mean to me."

Gilbert grimaced. "I didn't know how to react. I've never liked someone so much." He mumbled looking at the table. It was Matthew's turn to blush.

"O- Oh."

They both looked down at the table, an uncomfortable silence settled over them. Matthew opened his mouth to say something, but Gilbert beat him to it.

Gilbert grabbed Matthew's hand and looked at him, his eyes slightly panicked. "I… I hope that you can look past that, a- and go out with me." His sore throat made his voice hoarse.

Matthew sat up straighter and only thought for a second. He smiled that smile and Gilbert's heart fluttered. "Of course I'll go out with you." He looked down. "I- I've liked you for awhile too." He mumbled.

Gilbert tightened his hand on Matthew's. "I'm so ha- ah, ah, ACHOO!"

Gilbert was mortified. He had sneezed. All over Matthew and Matthew's food. He sat in shocked silence for what felt like hours. "Oh no, Mattie I-"

Matthew snorted.

"M- Mattie?" Gilbert asked, the corners of his mouth twitching. Matthew's shoulders shook and soon he looked back up at Gilbert and laughed loudly. Gilbert leaned back and laughed along with him. "I'm sorry!" He laughed, holding his stomach.

Matthew wiped to snot off of his face with his sleeve, and shook his head, unable to say anything, he was laughing so hard.

When they finally got a hold of themselves Matthew leaned forward over the table and ruined food and kissed Gilbert's cheek.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

.

Gilbert and Matthew sighed, both looking at each other with warm smiles and loving eyes. Arthur sat completely disgusted and Feliciano smiled cluelessly.

"That's disgusting!" Arthur sputtered.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "It's not like we've haven't swapped worse things." Arthur blushed at the insinuation and hurriedly left the table, muttering insults. Feliciano giggled.

"What do you mean Gil?" He asked innocently. Gilbert smirked wickedly. "Well, you see Feli- OW!"

Matthew pinched Gilbert. "Nothing Feli." Gilbert rubbed his arm, pouting at Matthew. "Shouldn't Ludwig be finished with tutoring Alfred by now?"

Feliciano gasped and fled from the table, shouting a hurried goodbye behind him.

Gilbert took Matthew's hand in his and kissed his knuckles. "So, Birdie?"

Matthew hummed. "Yes Gil?"

"Where do you feel like going for our fifth year anniversary?"

Matthew smiled, and Gilbert was reminded of that time almost five years ago. "How about McDonalds, 5 pm sharp?"

Gilbert kissed Matthew's forehead.

"Sounds perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So cuuuute. I hope you both enjoyed it!
> 
> Remember, if you want to see a pairing get some love, then feel free to comment!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. The Thin and the Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to do two chapters today because I have a decent amount of requests adding up. Being up front with this next pairing, I have never done it before, nor have I heard of it in all honesty, at least in a romantic sense. This one was requested by a Guest.
> 
> Nichu! (JapanxChina)
> 
> This one is gonna be a bit darker, just to warn you guys. Also, if you are triggered by anything that has to do with Anorexia, be warned.
> 
> I think this will be an interesting exercise for me, working with a pairing I haven't before.

The Thin and the Numb

…

Kiku didn't remember the first time he had to visit the hospital. He was so young the first time. As a matter of fact, he didn't remember the second or the sixth time either. He just knew that every time he got to go home, he had to take a new batch of pills that didn't really make him feel very well.

Some made his stomach hurt, some made him much too hot, and some just put him to sleep.

He also knew that he didn't like going to the hospital every other weekend. They liked to stick sharp needles into his arms and legs. He even tried to tell his mother and father that he felt better whenever they were putting him in his booster seat in the family's car. But they just shook their heads, smiling sadly.

Kiku didn't know when he had started to count his appointments either. But he did until he was fifteen. Appointment 416. Then he didn't see the point. He finally understood what his disease was, and that he couldn't fight it, so why count as if there was going to be an end?

His parents liked to tell people that they had a 'strong son' that never let his disease or disabilities 'get the best of him'. But they knew full well that he was anything but strong. He cried often and talked to no one. Kiku closed in on himself when the doctor had told him how he would probably be wheelchair bound in the next few years.

Whenever the the new nurses or people around him asked him what he had, they gave him sad looks, and he hated it. His health got worse as he spoke less and less. He just didn't want people to give his those looks anymore, so he didn't tell them what he had or what was wrong. Even his parents gave him those looks, the ones that seemed to know that his time was limited.

When Kiku was seventeen, he could no longer feel his legs enough to walk. They felt completely numb. He had cried for hours alone in his room, tugging at his useless legs and silently wishing for them to do something. A few weeks later, Kiku went completely mute. No matter what he said to anyone, they gave him sad eyes, and a shake of the head. His parents got the same looks too, but they seemed to crave them, and spread news about Kiku's condition to anyone that would listen. Kiku grew to hate people, and his parents.

On his eighteenth birthday he was admitted full time to the hospital. It wasn't because he was so sick he was dying in a few weeks. No. It was because his parents didn't know how to take care of a son who barely looked at them, much less spoke to them. They only came around the Holidays, and only stayed for about an hour.

In the hospital, Kiku was around a lot more people like him. They had put him in the young adults ward, and despite his muteness, he had found a few people he called friends. There was Arthur, who was missing an arm due to a tumor. He was in rehabilitation right now. He had a large family. Kiku thought that they were loud and sort of obnoxious, but he liked Arthur. Then then there was a boy named Matthew. He was quiet and didn't talk much, but he wasn't mute. He was allergic to everything except pancakes and Canadian maple syrup.

They never looked at Kiku like he was a victim, but he knew that they still felt bad for him. They never even asked him if he wanted to go outside with them and watch. They were all afraid to hurt his feelings. He was a pariah even in a place full of pariah's. Everyone was afraid to hurt his feelings, and never really looked him in the eye.

That is until he met Yao Wang.

.

Kiku rolled himself through the hallways, glancing at the pictures on the walls that the kids did in the children's ward. He liked children. They looked at everybody the same. He had just finished his treatments for the day. He was a little groggy, and wasn't paying attention to what was happening or where he was going. He was wishing that he asked for later appointments before he left when someone came out of the door right in front of him. He swung himself to the right to avoid running into the door.

From the back the person looked like a woman. They had long, black hair that was tied into a low pony tail. They wore a red silk shirt with sleeves that ended past their hands and tight black pants. Even from behind they looked seriously bony. The person spun around and Kiku was surprised to see that the person was a man. He looked to be around his age. His eyes were a pleasant golden brown and his cheeks were a little sunken in, but he wasn't unpleasant to look at.

The man looked around, before his eyes made their way downwards and finally landed on Kiku. Kiku braced for that dreaded look, but it never came. Instead the man's eyes lit up.

"Oh, thank God!" Kiku looked away then back quickly. "I was worried that I was the only one in this hospital for a second." He laughed, flipping his silky hair over his shoulder. When Kiku just stared at the man, the man coughed nervously. "Um…" He mumbled tapping his hands together. "Oh, right!" He mumbled. He put his hand out to Kiku. "My name is Yao. Yao Wang."

Not wanting to be rude, and to get this awkward encounter over with as soon as possible, Kiku took his hand and shook it once before dropping it. Kiku noticed duly that Yao had small, but soft hands. Yao laughed uncomfortably.

"Y- You don't talk much, do you?"

Kiku shook his head. He lifted his wrist for Yao to read the band he had on it. Yao lightly touched Kiku's wrist and bent down a bit.

"Your name is Kiku?"

Kiku nodded. Yao smiled. "That's a cute name." He said. Kiku felt his face heat up a bit. Was he making fun of him? "Anyway, um, Kiku?" He asked. "Do you have any idea how to get back into our ward? I got lost coming back from the bathroom." He said, scratching his cheek in embarrassment. Kiku nodded and jerked his head as a sign for Yao to follow him. They walked, well Yao walked Kiku rolled, down the hallways in relative silence. Yao only made a few comments here and there about how he was just admitted today and someone was supposed to show him around earlier, but had to leave for an emergency. Kiku nodded absently, not really paying attention.

They finally made it to the young adults commons and Yao thanked Kiku before going around the corner. Kiku sat, confused for a moment. The only thing around that particular corner was Kiku's room. He rolled forward and into his room. There were two beds in his room now, instead of his one. A few boxes sat around it and Yao stood over one, taking a few pieces of clothing out. Kiku made a noise of discomfort.

Yao spun around and smiled. "So you are my roomate." Kiku raised an eyebrow. "Your name is on the outside of the door. I thought I recognized it." Yao smiled and put some of his clothes into the one dresser in the room. Kiku coughed, a little confused. "I hope you don't mind. I just moved some of your clothes over." He said quickly, moving onto another box. In truth, Kiku did mind, but he couldn't really say anything either.

Kiku rolled to his bed and grabbed the handles on the side of his bed, and pulled himself up. He knew Yao was watching him, and it made his neck burn, but he went along with his routine. Once he finally got himself in his bed he laid down, and turned onto his side, his back to Yao. He always felt tired after his exams. Despite being uncomfortable with the extra person, and slightly annoyed by the noises he was making, Kiku fell asleep rather quickly.

.

When he woke up an hour later, Yao was sitting next to his bed, holding something in his lap, and a book in his hand. Kiku scrunched his eyebrows and sat up with his arms. Yao looked up at the movement. He smiled and put his book down on the floor.

"You're up!" He said, standing. He brought the thing he was holding on his lap and handed it to Kiku. Kiku rubbed his eyes and looked at the object.

It was a whiteboard about the size of a laptop. Kiku raised his eyebrow.

Yao looked down at Kiku, beaming. "I wanted to hear you." He said, handing Kiku a black marker. Kiku just stared at the board, his cheeks a little pink. Yao brought the chair closer, and got comfy.

Kiku looked to his smiling face and uncapped the marker. He wrote out his first sentence in his neat handwriting.

Why are you hanging around me?

Yao blinked. "Well, I want to talk to you. You are my room mate until one of us gets better." He stated. Kiku looked down quickly. "What's wrong?" He asked gently. Kiku wrote a quick sentence.

I'm not going to get better.

Yao gasped quietly and looked away. "Oh." Was all he could say. Kiku looked at Yao from the corner of his eye. Would he give him that look now? The one that everyone did when they found out he would just keep getting sicker?

But to his great surprise, Yao looked at Kiku and smiled. "What do you do for fun?"

Kiku blinked, surprised yet again.

I read. He looked back down at the board. He decided to be polite. What do you do?

Yao put one of his slim hands on his thin chin. "Hmm. Lots of things I suppose." He smiled again. "But I do enjoy a good book now and again."

Kiku nodded, then looked away, cheeks pink, when he realized he had been staring at Yao's rosy lips. 'I'm just not used to people smiling around me is all'. He tried to reason to himself.

"Now you ask me a question." Yao insisted, scooting his chair closer. Kiku wrote down the first thing that came to mind.

Where are you from?

"I was born in China, but I left to go to University." He answered. "My turn." Kiku nodded getting a little excited. "Favorite color?"

Black.

Do you have any siblings?

"Three. All adopted."

"Do you?"

No.

How old are you?

"Nineteen, you?"

.

And it when on like this until the darkest hours of the night. Kiku got around to asking why Yao was here, and he seemed so nonchalant when he told Kiku he didn't like to eat. Kiku wished he could be as confident when he told people of his disease, but… he wasn't sure he ever would.

Over the next few months Kiku and Yao would become closer and closer. They talked like that almost every night. Kiku writing until his hand ached and Yao talking until his throat hurt.

Some things changed and some things stayed the same. Some of the changes were that Yao sometimes held Kiku's hand or brushed some hair out of his eyes. He had also started to sit in Kiku's bed beside him, and though Kiku couldn't feel it, he knew that Yao's legs were entangled with his. Sometimes they would fall asleep in the together, Yao's head on Kiku's chest. He also knew that Yao liked to play with his hair while he slept after his exams, and he sometimes kept his eyes closed just a bit longer just to feel Yao's hands slide through his hair, and to hear him hum a sweet melody.

One thing that Kiku noticed was that he had never seen Yao eat. Yao never came to the canteen and he never took part in the snack food that Kiku brought back sometimes. When he asked about it, Yao said that he ate in the room. Kiku wanted to believe him, he really did, but he couldn't hide his concern when Yao began to look paler and thinner.

Yao would always brush him off and tell him that he was fine, then they would move onto different topics.

Kiku told Yao all about his parents and how he disliked them. He told Yao about the way people looked at him, and why that made him mute. Yao then asked if Kiku could speak if he wanted to. Kiku wanted to say yes, he could, but when Yao prompted him to do so, Kiku froze up, unable to do anything. Yao smiled, like always, and understood.

Yao told him about his past as well, and Kiku drank in everything. He never talked to Matthew or Arthur like this. Yao told him that his family actually disowned him because he was gay.

Kiku couldn't say that he was surprised about hearing Yao's sexuality. Why else would he touch Kiku all the time? He was just surprised by the intense gaze Yao had given him when he told him, as if waiting for Kiku to say or do something.

Kiku, not really ever wondering about his preference decided that he liked Yao. Just Yao. He held no interest in other men, like the super muscled patient Ludwig, or the busty nurse Katyusha. But he liked Yao. A lot.

Yao was simply beautiful on Kiku's eyes. He had a brilliant smile that could bring his mood up no matter how bad his exams that day had gone. Yao spoke his mind, but didn't get Kiku down for his opinions. Yao never told him he couldn't do something, and though it sounds bad, he never asked Kiku if he needed help. If it was obvious, Yao would just help, like getting something off of a top shelf, though sometimes Yao had to ask Ivan for help because he wasn't very tall in the first place. The most important thing however was that Yao never gave Kiku that look. He always looked at Kiku like he would live for a hundred more years, and that he could do anything if he wanted to.

So yes. Kiku felt himself falling more and more in love with Yao. Just Yao.

.

Like most good things, it cannot last.

Kiku had finished a littler earlier than usual with his exam, and was rounding the corner to his and Yao's room when he heard glass shattering. He jolted in surprise, and pumped his arms faster to get into the room. He stopped at the door and ducked when a glass bowl covered in saran wrap came hurling towards him. It shattered against the wall behind him, dripping soup all over the hallway floor.

He looked back into the room with wide eyes, and wanted to cry. There were glass bowl and plate shards covering the floor. Food; sandwiches, chips, fruits, and veggies, were stuck to the walls and smeared on the floor. And in the middle of it kneeled Yao, his golden eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. His hair was loose and cascaded down his back like fine strands of silk. He opened his mouth and only got one word out before he crumpled onto the floor, sobbing; "Kiku."

Kiku rolled forward and fell onto Yao. He pushed his chair away and shifted Yao into his lap. Even though Kiku couldn't feel him, he knew Yao was far too lite. Yao grasped onto Kiku's shoulders and cried, and cried, and cried. He mumbled "I'm sorry" and "I can't do it" over and over again. Kiku nodded each time and carded his fingers through Yao's soft, soft hair. He felt something welling up in his throat, and he opened his mouth on reflex. What came out was…

"Yao."

It was quiet, and it scratched his throat. But Yao heard it. Yao pushed himself back, and put his forehead to Kiku's. "D-Did you j-just-?" He hiccuped. Even with tears and snot covering his thin, too thin, face, Kiku thought Yao was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Kiku nodded, and he felt his face wet with his own tears. Yao touched Kiku's face with his cold fingers, tracing his lips. "Yao." Kiku whispered again, and Yao laughed. It was a broken, watery laugh, but it still made Kiku's heart leap. "Yao?"

Yao wiped his face with his sleeve and grimaced at it. He hadn't seemed to hear Kiku. He placed his head on Kiku's chest, and he could feel his shirt get damp. Yao held onto Kiku tighter, and sobbed loudly. Kiku swept his hand through Yao's hair once more. Kiku put his lips to Yao's head and decided he should just say it, even if Yao couldn't hear him. His tears fell into Yao's hair.

"I love you." He cried, his voice softer than a feather. "I love you…" He cried harder when Yao's grip tightened. He knew he had heard, but he couldn't stop. "I love you… I love you, Yao."

.

The nurses hadn't been happy when they walked in to give Yao his dinner, but they practically glowed in happiness and excitement when Kiku asked them, his voice worn and weary, to just let it go, just for once.

They had sighed but agreed, just this once. Once they had left Kiku sat on his bed massaging his throat.

"Is it weird?"

Kiku turned to Yao, who for once was on his own bed, and smiled. "Yeah." He dropped his hand. "But I'm sure I will get used to it." Yao stood and walked over to sit next to Kiku. He heaved out a long, heavy sigh. He looked at Kiku, his eyes red and puffy.

"I hope you do." Kiku leaned closer.

"Why?" He whispered. Yao smiled and leaned closer as well.

"I want to hear you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O.O… That ended up WAY longer than I thought it was gonna be. And I really, really, really liked this pairing. So thank you guest for opening a whole new world for me.
> 
> I hope you guys liked this one even though it wasn't strictly a Valentine's Day one. They are still broken and have their own problems, but they are together for it all.
> 
> Remember, if you want a couple to get some love, leave a review!


	6. Valentine's Day Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Sorry for not updating yesterday! My hands were literally throbbing and hurt like the dickens. But, I did write two chappie's the day before, sooo…
> 
> This request comes from a Guest named Anne! I'm not gonna tell you the exact pairing, however, because that would actually spoil the story. BUT it involves:
> 
> Scotland, Prussia, France, and Canada!
> 
> This will be a Nation AU, which is slightly new to me as well… I am honestly not sure if this one turned out well… Ugh…

Valentine's Day Dance

…

It was a blustery winter night in Finland, and the World Meeting had just ended. Most of the Nations had already cleared out of the massive room. Only a few remained behind to catch up with old friends, or get some more information about something they had spoke about during the meeting.

Some such Nations include France, Prussia, and Spain. They sat together laughing and talking about this and that for an hour until Spain of all people brought up The Question. The Question was always brought up at one point or another when the three of them met near February. Spain had been exempt from The Question since he and Romano had gotten officially together.

"So," He chirped, swiveling back and forth in his chair like a toddler. "Do you guy's have your eye on anyone to take to the Valentine's Day Dance?"

The Valentine's Day Dance was one way for the Nations to let loose and have a bit of fun every year. Sometimes it helped strengthen relationships between them, and sometimes it hindered them, but it was still fun either way. It was usually organized by the host Nation, so Finland was in charge of arranging everything, but all of the Nordics chipped in to help.

Over the years, France had been known to take someone different every year. Last year it was England, the year before that was Lichtenstein. Though he didn't really dance with either one of them. England ran off with America, and Switzerland wouldn't allow France ten feet within Lichtenstein. But that never stopped him from dancing with all of the other Nations.

Prussia, alas, had never asked anyone, and mostly bothered his brother or Austria every year. But this year seemed to be different.

"Canada!"

"Canada!"

"..."

Red and blue eyes met in a fiery glare. Spain, on the other hand, looked between them, his mouth agape. Prussia leaned forward in his chair, his ruby eyes like daggers.

"Oh, so I see Francy- Pants wants to take Canada as well?" He questioned, practically begging France to say yes. Which, of course, he did.

"Of course, mon ami." He folded his hands together tightly. "I would love to take mon petit Canada to the dance! I can't imagine a better date." He said, his voice tight.

Prussia scrunched up his nose in disgust. "Yeah, like Canada would ever even go with you!"

France gasped and stood, his chair falling backwards. "Whatever do you mean?"

Prussia, not to be outdone, stood as well. "I mean that Canada is too good for you! You're way too impure for sweet, little Canada."

France scoffed. "If we are talking about being who's more impure here, then maybe you should look in the mirror!"

Spain put a hand in front of his mouth. "Oooooh."

Prussia leaned forward, his hands on the table. "There's no way Canada could resist the awesome me."

France laughed. "We shall see about that!" He flipped his hair, and glared at Prussia. "He will be going with me."

Gilbert crossed his arms. "Then I suppose we should just ask him, and when I win you have to bow down to me and praise my awesomeness."

France nodded. "Fine. But when I win, you have to dye your hair brown and wear blue contacts." He stuck out his pedicured hand. Prussia took it in his pale one.

"Deal."

.(Meanwhile).

"ACHOO!"

"Jeez man, you okay?" America asked, tapping Canada on the shoulder.

Canada wiped his nose. "Yeah... " He shivered.

"Here, you need this more than I." Scotland said, handing Canada a handkerchief from his breast pocket. The three of them had been walking back to the hotel together.

"Oh, thank you Scotland!" Canada said, taking the silky material. He smiled sweetly at the redhead before he and America turned to get to their hotel room. He turned around at the last second. "I'll get this back to you tomorrow!" He waved it in the air before wiping his nose with it.

Scotland watched Canada's back before it disappeared around another corner.

.

"Whatever are you doing, Frog?" England asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

France stuck his nose in the air. "I'm baking of course!" He smirked. "I know that it is a strange concept to you, for someone to look like they know what they are doing."

England frowned. "Are you nervous?"

Francis blinked. "What makes you say that?"

"That was the worst insult I've ever heard, and I live with America." He raised a thick brow. "Why are you up so late baking? Got a hot date?"

France rolled his eyes. "Not yet, but these maple cupcakes will surely get me one."

England scratched his head. "Maple?" France nodded. Then England's face went completely red in anger. "Are you going to ask out poor, innocent Canada?" France nodded, rolling his eyes again. "Y- you can't!"

France crossed his arms and sighed. "And why not?"

"You'll taint him with your pervy ways! He's too innocent!"

The oven timer dinged and France took out his perfectly made Maple cupcakes before answering an enraged England.

"Well, it is either me or Prussia."

"WHAT?"

France nodded. "He wants to take Canada to the dance as well."

"Well, then you must win!" France raised a plucked eyebrow. England grabbed his book and stomped out. "We can't have Canada getting hurt by that- that… egotistical bastard!" He slammed the door shut. France looked at his steaming cupcakes.

"For once, Angleterre, you and I agree."

.

"Um, why are you taping pictures of your face on balloons Prussia?"

Prussia looked up from his work. "Well, Bruder, you see I'm gonna ask Canada if he will go to the dance with me this year. And no one can say no to my awesome face, now can they?" He laughed to himself, going back to his work.

Germany scratched the back of his head. "But, East, someone already-"

"West." Prussia thrust his hand out at his brother. "I need to concentrate. Now shoo." He flicked his hand, not looking at Germany. "Go play with Italy or something."

Germany sighed and left. "Well, I tried."

"GERMANY, HELP ME!" His eyes snapped to the left and sighed.

"How is it even possible to get your hair caught in the telephone wires?"

.

Canada yawned as he made his way to the meeting room.

"Tired?" An accented voice called. . He looked up and smiled. Scotland was standing in front of the closed double doors. Canada stood next to him.

"Yeah." He rubbed his eyes. "I wish they would make these meetings later."

Scotland chuckled. "Aye, or make the bed's less comfortable. That way we would want to leave them."

Canada laughed lightly. Then his eyes lit up. "Oh yeah!" He reached into his suit pocket, pulling out the cloth from the day before. "I washed it." He tried to hand it to Scotland, but the older man just shook his head.

"Keep it." Canada's head tilted to the side. "We could call it a favor."

Canada's cheeks turned light pink. He slipped the cloth back into his pocket. He opened his mouth to say something, but then the double doors swing open. Scotland waved his arm to let Canada go first.

Canada stepped into the room, and suddenly France was in his face, shoving an icing covered cupcake under his nose. "France?" He asked, having no choice but to take the cupcake. France swept his arm towards a table filled with them.

"Ah, Canada! I am so glad you could make it!"

Canada stared at the table. "Um, of course. Everyone is coming… it is a World Meeting…" He looked back at Scotland who shrugged, clearly confused at well.

Then something touched the top of Canada's head. He looked up in time to see hundreds of bright yellow balloons falling from a net in the ceiling. "What the…" He picked on up. "Is this… Prussia?"

"Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear!" Prussia yelled into a microphone. Loud German music began to blast from hidden speakers. He was standing in the middle of the meeting table. "I have a very important question to ask you, Canada!"

"Non, I have a more important question!" France pushed him out of the way, and took the mic. Prussia yelled from the ground. "They're the same question dumbass."

"But he will be saying yes to me, mon ami!"

"No, he won't. I'm more awesome than you!"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"So you admit it!" Prussia laughed from the ground, pointing at France.

"Whatever, but Canada will be going to the dance with me, because he actually likes me!"

Canada finally knew what was going on.

"Um, guys?" Canada tried, but he couldn't be heard over the two Nations bickering or the music. He put the cupcake down on the table. "Guy's?" He tried again, but his voice only seemed to be getting quieter. He looked back at Scotland, completely helpless.

Scotland sighed and put his bag down. He stomped his way to Canada, spun him around, dipped him, and laid one on him.

Canada squeaked but kissed Scotland back.

Prussia and France froze and could only watch their potential date getting the daylights kissed out of them. Scotland released Canada with a big smack. Canada giggled and blushed, a dopey smile on his face.

"Now, listen up!" France and Prussia went to attention. "Neither of you mamby pambies are taking wee Canada to the dance, because I am." Prussia opened his mouth, but Scotland gave him such an acidic look that he decided against saying anything. He thought that would be better for his health.

Scotland grabbed Canada's hand and stormed out of the room, leaving a dumbfounded France and a shocked Prussia. They looked at each other. France smirked.

"So… You wanna go to the dance with me?" He waggled his eyebrows. Prussia put his hand on France's shoulder.

"I would rather disappear than go with you." He walked out of the room, then poked his head in. "No offense or anything."

France jumped off the table. "Offense fully taken."

They bickered the rest of the way down the hallway, not bothering to clean up the mess they had just made, or turn off the music.

In the end, France took Belgium, and Prussia went with Austria, while Scotland and Canada danced the night away together.

They all lived happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh… ew…
> 
> I'm sorry Anne… I don't think this was very good, but I tried my best. I'm not very good at these situations, but I didn't want to leave you hanging…
> 
> Anyway, thank you everyone for reading!


	7. I Know This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. As you can see, I changed the title of this FF to something else, as I have failed to write this all in February.
> 
> I am so sorry that I disappeared off the face of the planet. What can I say? I got busy. But I will never leave you guys completely without your pairing.
> 
> So to Guest (Bridget) here is you pairing, a long time coming
> 
> France x Russia

There was something about him. His long, luscious hair, barely touching his shoulders, the color of dripping, sweet honey. I wish I could get close enough to touch it, to card my fingers through it. To feel its softness. It would feel too different from my own. I know this.

The way his lips wrapped around the words that he spoke to everyone but I. His lips were pink, and plump, and I hope that they would be warm and smooth. Though I shall never know the electric spark that may come from them if they ever touched my own dry, cold mouth. I know this.

I notice the way he looks at people with his sparkling, blue eyes. They took everyone's breath away as he gave them their full, undivided attention, even mine, although they would never meet my dull, lifeless eyes in the way I wanted, I dreamed for them to. I know this.

His skin was of the purest alabaster, the smoothest cream. I wished, yearned to touch him, to feel him. Yet, I knew that I never could. I know this.

I could never soil his golden hair with my bloody hands. My sinful hands. And yet I pray to, with the little faith I have left.

I could never bring his lips to mine, in fear of suffocating him with my own breath and shattering his innocence. And yet I dream of it as I lie awake every night.

I should never dane to look at him, for he could burn from the fire and despair from my own gaze, and yet I cannot help myself. My eyes drink him in like a thirsty dog every chance they get.

My hands could never graze him. They would break him, destroy him. And yet I twist in my sheets at night, aching, agonizing for him as I dream.

I could never have this man, his body or his soul. I know this, I know this, I know this. And still, I cannot let him go. He is my world, my shelter, my cage. My burden, my nightmare, my desire.

I wish to touch him, to feel him, to take him with my every breath. But I cannot, and will not.

For if he is broken, then I too, shall be unfixable. I know this. I know this.

I know this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know this (ha) is short, and depressing as fuck, but I really like it.
> 
> Please let me know if you like it too!
> 
> Tata for now!


	8. When I Loved Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hihi! Another one so soon?
> 
> I mean, you're welcome.
> 
> This pairing is brought to you by CrystalGem18 (eons ago). We have:
> 
> FemJapan x America!

When I Loved Her

…

It started out as a marriage of convenience. It was the usual story. My father's Kingdom needed some of the resources from her kingdom, yada yada yada.

Kiku and I had never even met before our wedding day. Some call that sad. My parents, Queen Alice and King Francis, call it "being a responsible Prince".

Our first words to each other were our vows, our first skin to skin contact a kiss. Not really even a kiss. A peck on the mouth, really. Our vows weren't even written by us, but by the Kingdom. Nothing was genuine in our hearts or minds. Not yet at least.

After our, um, consummation, she locked herself away in another room, not speaking to anyone. She only left to use the bathroom, and even then it was at the darkest times of the night.

My mother had told me that I was the one at fault.

"You weren't gentle enough" or "You should have taken better care of the poor girl". I mean, it's not like I was taught how to be the perfect lover or anything in my classes at the palace. I mean, what did they expect? I was a seventeen year old boy, what did they want me to do? Stick it in-...

Ahem… I'm getting distracted.

It was totally by chance that I had to go potty at the same time she did one night. It was about one in the morning, and I ran into her, quite literally, after relieving myself. We had slammed into each other, and her being much smaller than me, landed on her cute little butt with the most adorable tiny squeak.

After I had finished my internal squealing, because oh my God, she was (and still is) the most adorable thing I ever did see, I held out my hand to help her up.

Now you would think that her being a Princess, and me being the handsome devil I am, she would have blushed prettily and shyly gave me her hand. Um, no.

He looked like a terrified mouse that was about to get kicked out of the kitchen. She even might have even cringed away from me like I was handing her a dead animal.

She had scooted away from me when I tried to take a step closer. I had told her that it would be okay, and that I wouldn't touch her without her permission first. That seemed to calm her down. In fact it calmed her down enough for her to leave her room once and awhile.

And once and awhile, we would even talk.

She slowly opened up to me. She told me about her four siblings she had left behind in her country. She told me about her father, who was a peasant growing up, but became King by entrancing his wife with his rare violet eyes. She told me how it always rained in her country, and was surprised by the lack of rain in mine.

We met outside of her room more and more frequently, and even began to exchange small touches and words of endearment. It was a slow process, but we were becoming more husbandy and wifey each passing day, hour, minute.

I started to notice little things about her that I hadn't before. How she always swept the right side of her short hair back, and never the left. How she drummed her thin fingers when she was nervous or excited. She was left handed. She liked sweet foods, though she would always eat her veggie's first, unlike me. She liked to read on the terrace near her room, but slowly migrated to the one outside of mine.

A year had passed since our wedding. We were finally sleeping in the same bed and we even bathed together when she felt up to it. We were even sleeping together again, and seeing as she hadn't retreated back to her room, it went much better in my humble opinion.

Even after we had grown more intimate, and she more touchy, we still hadn't said those three words to each other.

Not until the day it rained.

It had been pouring. It hadn't rained this much since before our wedding day. The rain had started in the early morning. When I had woken up that morning in all my Princely glory, I was surprised to see that she was not next to me, or anywhere on the massive bed for that matter. I walked through the castle, a thin night shirt wrapped around myself, looking for Kiku. The sun had barely risen behind the clouds, giving them an orange glow.

I was rounding the corner to the courtyard when something caught my eye.

When she caught my eye.

I had felt my breath catch and my heartbeat race in my chest. The sun had broken through the clouds, only for a second, but it was enough. She was surrounded in gold. Her hands were raised to the sky, water dripping from her open palms. Rivulets of the rain trailed down her arms and face, dripping onto the ground. She was still in her nightdress. It had been soaked through. It stuck to her arms, legs, and back. I could see every breath she took in as her pale chest moved up and down. Her pretty brown eyes were closed, but I could see the redness on her cheeks and the way she smiled. Tears had mixed with the rain, and her face glistened in the fleeting sunlight.

It was then, that I knew I loved her.

I hadn't known that I had moved, that I had gone to her until I was just as soaked as she was. I had spoken her name, and her eyes looked to mine, peaceful. She reached out an arm, and I took her hand into my own. I kissed it, and held it up to my face.

She had told me that the rain was beautiful. I had told her that it was, but all I could look at was her. Her brown eyes, her small body that fit so perfectly into my own, and her ebony hair. I told her then, and she smiled. She kissed me softly, so softly, and repeated the same words back tenderly.

That morning she was perfect. To this day, as we are gray and shaking with age, she is still perfect. She still drums her fingers when she is nervous or excited. She still only swept back the right side of her hair. Of course, she is still left handed, though her handwriting is a bit messier.

She still stands out in the rain, her palms up and tears in her eyes.

I loved her then. I love her now. I will love her, always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't this the cutest little thing! Oh man. C:
> 
> I hope this was worth the wait! Please tell me how you felt about this chappie with a review!
> 
> Byebye for now!


	9. Camping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to a coffee shop, and got a large caramel coffee with espresso…
> 
> Let's do this.
> 
> The next pairing is brought to you by Ivyhunter10, and that pairing is:
> 
> Russia x America!
> 
> (I promise this won't be as depressing as my last Russia one…)
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Camping

…

Camping.

Ivan hated camping.

Camping meant bugs, hard grounds, bugs, cold nights, and bugs. He attracted mosquitoes like no other. Alfred, his best friend, liked to say that he was so pale that he looked like one of those bug zapper things. Ivan didn't think he was that pale.

It wasn't like Ivan hated the outdoors or anything. He enjoyed looking at it, maybe stepping out for a little walk, but camping. Count Ivan out.

Too bad he was crushing on Alfred. Yepp, that Alfred. His best friend Alfred. And he was crushing hard.

He loved the way Alfred smiled, his face brighter than the sun. He loved his soft, straw blonde hair, and the way it glowed in the sunlight. He loved the way that Alfred was never afraid of him. Yeah, that was definitely nice. Alfred was nice. Real nice.

"Dude, Ivan!"

Ivan hummed and smiled up at the very boy he was daydreaming about. The smile didn't last long, however.

"Do you have all of your camping stuff with you, or do we have to pick it up from your house?"

Ivan sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hated camping. "Da, I have it with me. It's in my locker."

Alfred gave him a weird look.

"What?"

Alfred shrugged. "You know we are going to be gone for two weeks, right?"

Ivan blinked, confused. "Da?"

Alfred smiled a bit, and Ivan willed his heartbeat to slow. "You can fit two weeks of clothes in your locker?"

Ivan's face turned a bit red, and he looked down. "It's not like I have that many clothes to begin with, Alfred…" He mumbled. Alfred gasped and smacked himself on the forehead.

"Oh shit dude, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" He rambled, his eyes dropped and his cheeks burned in shame.

Ivan stood. "It's alright, Alfred." He walked towards the door as the bell rang. He couldn't quite meet Alfred's blue, perfect eyes. "I will see you after school, da?"

Alfred took Ivan's arm in his hand, stopping him from leaving, and stopping Ivan's heart. Alfred tried to meet his friends eyes. "Ivan-" Ivan gave him a small smile. One that told him that it was alright, but he didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Yeah…" Alfred deflated. "See you tonight."

Ivan cleared his throat, his eyes darting down to Alfred's hand which still hadn't let go of his arm. Alfred made a little noise in the back of his throat, and dropped Ivan's arm like it was burning hot.

Ivan walked out, his face burning hotter still. If he had looked hack, he would have seen that Alfred was even redder than he.

.

"Road trip, road trip, road trip!" Alfred chanted from the back seat next to Ivan. Ivan chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Alfred, please." Matthew, Alfred's twin brother whispered from the driver's seat. "I need to concentrate."

Alfred pouted, his lower lip jutting out. Ivan quickly looked away after wondering what it would feel like to have that lip in between his. "You're no fun, Mattie." He huffed.

"He's plenty fun, Alfie, trust me." Gilbert, Matthew's long time boyfriend, giggled from the passenger's seat. Sounds of disgust and a slapping sound echoed through the car.

"Anyway," Matthew said, "Are you excited Ivan?"

Ivan smiled in his childish way and lied through his teeth. "Da, I am very excited."

Gilbert spoke up, "At least Alfred finally invited someone." He flung his arm around Matthew's chair. "Now you and me can have alone time without him buzzing around."

Ivan turned to Alfred as Matthew and Gilbert whispered to each other in the front. Alfred had turned a little red.

"You haven't invited anyone before?"

"Of course I have!" He protested. Almost immediately Matthew shot back "No he hasn't." Alfred sent a glare to the back of his brother's head.

"How come?"

Alfred looked down. "I don't know…"

"Yes he does."

"Shut up, Mattie!"

Matthew hummed, as if thinking about it. "No, I shan't."

"I never did because no one was good enough." He huffed crossing his arms over his chest. He wouldn't look Ivan in the eye. They were doing that a lot lately. Ivan felt his face get warm.

"And, you think that I am good enough?" He put a hand to his chest.

"Well, I mean…" Alfred scratched the back of his head. Finally his eyes met Ivan's. "I can't talk to anyone like I can talk to you."

Ivan tilted his head, confused, and Alfred nearly had a nose bleed. Did Ivan know how cute he was? "I tell you everything, man." Ivan's face could have broken in two from how wide he smiled.

Gilbert snickered from the front. His red eyes met Alfred's. "Well, not everything."

Alfred's mouth opened and closed like a suffocating fish, his blue eyes darting from Gilbert to Ivan before he finally shouted, "I'm taking a nap!"

He turned away from Ivan and leaned his head on the window, closing his eye, knowing full well that he wouldn't be sleeping any time soon, not with Ivan so close by.

Ivan looked at Gilbert questioningly, and Matthew just laughed softly. "It's alright Ivan. He will tell you eventually. When he feels ready." The couple went back to talking softly to each other, leaving Ivan confused as all get out.

He looked at Alfred's curled up form. What wasn't Alfred telling him?

.

Setting up the tents took longer than it should have, or so Ivan thought. What would he know, he hated camping. He didn't know the proper tent setting up time. But he didn't think it should have taken 3 hours. But it was, and they still weren't done.

Matthew and Gilbert kept knocking their own tent down, and Ivan was sure that they were doing it on purpose after the third time. As of now, Alfred had theirs mostly up,and he was just now getting the center support up.

"I wish I could be of more help," Ivan said. He was sitting on the ground holding a flashlight up so that Alfred could see what he was doing in the dwindling light. "But I feel I would be more of a hinderance."

Alfred laughed and waved him off.

"No worries man. I got this." Alfred pulled something and the tent suddenly sprang to life. Ivan stared at it for a moment.

"It is not very big."

"Um…" Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "No, it really isn't, is it."

"I suppose it will be like sleeping at my house, right?" Ivan stated, trying to lighten the awkward mood. Alfred's blue eyes snapped to his, his gaze like steel.

"Your house is awesome. I like being close to you when I sleep." He said. Ivan's eyes widened.

"Alfred-"

Alfred's eyes darted away as fast as they had made contact. "That came out wrong. Sorry. I didn't mean anything… weird by it okay?"

Ivan opened his mouth but couldn't think of anything to say. "... Okay."

.

Sleeping was an… interesting affair to say the least. The tent really was tiny. Ivan's and Alfred's backs were touching from shoulder to hip, and Ivan had to curl up in a tight ball to fit completely inside.

"You still a-awake, man?" Alfred whispered.

Ivan shifted a bit to try to look at his friend. He sounded strange.

"Da, I am awake." Ivan got even more confused when Alfred curled tighter into himself. It was then that Ivan realized that the other boy was shaking slightly. "Are you cold, Alfred?"

"N-no!" His teeth chattered.

Ivan rolled his eyes, and turned over. He hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his long arms around Alfred.

Alfred stiffened. "W-what are you d-d-doing?"

Ivan closed his eyes and brought Alfred closer. "You are cold. I will keep you warm." He said, trying to convince himself that that is the only thing he wanted to do. Alfred seemed to think about it for a moment before he too turned over.

He thanked God that it was dark out so Ivan couldn't see how red his face was. He snuggled closer to Ivan, burying his face into the other boys warm, inviting chest, his hand curling into his scarf that he even wore while sleeping.

They were silent for a moment, and Alfred slowly stopped shivering. He buried his face into Ivan's neck, and breathed him in, trying to make it discreet. It was warm.

"Why are you so warm?" He mumbled. Ivan shrugged.

"Why do you fit perfectly into my arms?" Ivan whispered. Alfred's eyes widened. He pushed away to see Ivan's face, but the other boys eyes were closed. Alfred let out a steady breath.

"Why does my heart pound whenever I see you?"

"Why does your smile make me warm?"

"Why are you so perfect?"

"Why are you so beautiful?"

Alfred's breath caught in his throat. He'd been called handsome before, but beautiful? He brought his arms around Ivan, and pulled himself impossibly closer. "Why do I love you?"

Ivan's arms suddenly loosened, and he pushed Alfred away enough to see his face. Alfred's breath was once again taken away. Ivan's eyes were bright and violet and burning into Alfred's own.

"You love me?" He asked, his voice low and rough.

Alfred took a deep breath in and nodded slowly. "I do." He said, his cheeks burning. "I know that you probably don't feel the same, and I would understand if you didn't want to be my friend anym-"

He was cut off by a warm pair of lips on his own. He hesitated for only a moment before kissing Ivan back, his mind shut down, and his eyes slid closed. Fireworks broke out from beneath his eyelids, and his heart threatened to break out of his chest.

Ivan was so warm.

Ivan brought his hand to Alfred's cheek as they separated. "I love you too, Fredka." He could feel Alfred smile in the dark, and it lit up his whole world. They came together once again, a bit rougher than last time.

Maybe camping wasn't so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! A nice long piece for Ivy.
> 
> As always, I hope everyone enjoyed it! Please leave a review. A few from last time had me blushing!
> 
> I was like "Oh, stop" -waves arm-
> 
> Until next time!


	10. Tremble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey bud's! This one was requested twice by The-Autumn-Goddess, and I feel terrible for not getting it out sooner the first time you requested it in February. So here it is, the next pairing
> 
> Spain x Romano!
> 
> Just to put this in a timeline for you, this is right before Feliciano and Ludwig got together. :) (Refer to The Tale of the Oblivious chapter)

Tremble

…

I wasn't one to brag about anything. In fact, I don't really think that I can do anything as well as others. My brother, Feliciano, can paint better than I. He could get more girls than me, even though we are both gay. Hell, he could even get more men if I am being perfectly honest. But, there was one thing that I knew I could do better than him. Better than anyone really, at least in my high school.

I can take the best fucking pictures you have ever seen. I could take polaroids, action shots, stills, nature shots. Anything. I could take them of anyone, too. Well, everyone except Antonio Fernandez- Carriedo.

I don't know what's wrong with him. Whenever I try to, not that I want to take a picture of the pert ass or handsome as fuck face, the picture always comes out blurry or off in some way. Feliciano told me it was my fault. It couldn't have been though. Photography was the only thing I could do, and I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I was great at it, so why couldn't I take a decent picture of Antonio? Not that I wanted to, of course, but it was damn frustrating.

"Your hands shake when you take pictures of Antonio." Feliciano said, out of the blue. My eyes snapped to him in the passenger seat before looking back at the road in front of me.

"What?" I asked.

"You were talking out loud fratello." Feliciano giggled. "And I was just saying that your hands shake when you take a picture of Antonio. It doesn't do that for anyone else."

I scoffed. "You're damn right it doesn't." I thought for a moment. "And it doesn't with Antonio either." I snapped.

Feliciano sighed. "But, what if they do, and you just don't notice?"

I rolled my eyes. "Are you telling me to pay more attention to my hands than to the subject I am taking the picture of?"

Feliciano rubbed his face. "Maybe you should for Antonio, yeah?"

"Maybe I will, just so you can shut up about it." I said, gripping the wheel tighter. There was no way that my hands only shook with Antonio.

"But they do, fratello."

I looked at Feliciano. "Was I-"

"Talking out loud again?" He answered before I could finish. "Yes. You were." He sighed. I blinked at him.

"Are… Are you okay?" I asked, pulling into the school's parking lot.

Feliciano scratched his auburn hair. "I'm fine."

I parked the car, and gave him my full attention. "Are you sure?"

Feliciano let out a breathy laugh. "Yes, I'm fine." He unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his book bag from the back seat. "Maybe some of us are tired of hearing about your stupid photography problems, and don't want to hear about them anymore." He swung the door open and lept out, slamming the door shut with enough force to shake the car.

I sat there for another moment staring at the door. Was I really talking about it that much? Was that really what was wrong with him? I sat in a silence for another moment before opening the door and entering the school, my camera in hand.

.

"Stop moving!" I snapped.

Antonio laughed and rubbed the back of his head, that annoyingly handsome smile on his face. "I'm not, Loviiii." He said, sidling up to me. He took my camera into his hands, and laughed. "It's a great picture of the wall though." I snatched the camera back, and deleted the picture.

"No need to be an ass." I grumbled, looking down. Why couldn't I do this? It wasn't like Antonio was special or anything. I felt him grab my arm and tug me into him. I was suddenly face to face with his chest.

Have you ever been that close to someone's chest before? Especially a chest as hot as Antonio's was? If not, let me tell you how hard it was to keep myself from imagining that chest pressed against my back, with far less clothes covering it.

Anyway.

"Aw, Lovi, I wasn't trying to be mean." He whined, a dopey grin on his gorgeous face. "I was actually complementing the picture you took."

I pushed him away and glared. "How would know anything about photo's or if they look good or not?"

Antonio grabbed my hand. "I know that I like your photo's." He tugged me again, but I stood my ground. "And, I know that they always look amazing." My breath caught in my throat. His eyes were a dark, but sparkling green, and they seemed to stare right through me. I felt my face warm beneath his gaze. I twisted my hand out of his, and held my camera to my chest.

"Just go stand against the wall, idiot." I mumbled, turning away from him.

I heard him sigh, but did dare look at him, because I was positive my face would have melted off.

Once he was situated against the wall again, I lifted my camera to my face. He was leaning casually against it, his hands in his pockets and his feet crossed. "My hands don't shake." I grumbled as I twisted the focus a bit. Man, he was hot.

Then I noticed it. My hands were trembling… What. The. Fuck?

My usually steady hands were trembling like I was in the antarctic. I even noticed that my breath was coming out in light pants instead of slow, steady breaths, like usual. What was wrong with me? I pulled the camera away from my face and stared at my hands.

"Lovi?" Antonio called from across the room. I heard him come closer. "Lovino, what's wrong? Did you get the shot?"

I sighed and dropped my hands, balling them into fists. "No." I mumbled.

"What? I didn't quite catch that Lovi." He said, standing right in front of me. Anger exploded inside of me like a volcano.

"No! No I didn't get the fucking shot!" I shouted. I began to pace in front of him. "I can never get the shot when it's with you." I grabbed my hair with my free hand. "I just don't understand. Why is it only you?" I stopped in front of him. "Why is it only, always you?" I asked desperately. Antonio gulped down some air and took a step towards me. "I don't know, why is it always me?" He took my hand again. "Why are you shaking?"

I tried to take my arm back, but he held firm. "I don't know." I spat.

"Do I scare you?" He asked, his voice sad.

I looked at him incredulously. "Of course not. You're the least scary person I know!" I shouted. His eyes brightened a bit.

"Do we always meet in the cold?"

I gave him a look. "Really. That's a stupid question."

He took another step towards me, pushing me against the wall behind me. "Do I make you nervous?" His voice had dropped to a whisper. I looked away from his burning green eyes.

"N-no." I lied.

"Lovi…"

"Yes." I whispered, looking down. I felt his warm, warm hand lift my chin so that my eyes would meet his.

"Why?" He murmured. He tilted his head to mine.

"I- I don't know." I forced out. My breath had gotten heavier. He was so close. I could smell his cologne, which was applied perfectly, I could smell his breath, which smelled of tomatoes. He smelled like sunshine, soil, and so good.

Antonio brought his hand to my cheek, and I was scared I was going to burn him with how hot my face was. His thumb was softly caressing my cheek bone in slow circles. I felt his hips against mine, and- Jesus, was it hot in here.

"Lovino?" His forehead rested against mine.

"What?" I said. My voice lacked any venom that I wanted it to have.

"I love your photography. I love the way your face turns red whenever you are happy or sad or embarrassed, so that you look like a little tomato. I love the way you smile when you are with Feliciano or with your friends. I love the way you smile at me when you don't think I can see it. I love the way you feel. Lovino?"

I couldn't even respond. My heart was in my throat, and my eyes were watering. "Hm?" Was all I could manage.

"Lovino, I love you for everything that you are. I love you." He whispered closing the space between us. His lips were so soft, and warm, and perfect. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, my heart hammering in my chest. One of my hands was still gripping the camera hard enough to hurt. With the other I lifted it to Antonio's chest and gripped the fabric of his shirt into my hand. They were both still trembling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are too much. This one, to me at least, turned out kind of weird. It's not how I usually write, in my opinion, but I like it? I think?
> 
> Anyway, please leave a review and a favorite!
> 
> Until next time buddies!


	11. Cupcakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Where have I been this past week? Busy and sorta out of sorts. It's been a long week, and I am glad that it is over.
> 
> But our next ship is ready to board, and it has been requested by Victoria H (guest), and she actually gave me a plot! Makes my life easier. The ship of today issss:
> 
> 2p!France x 2p!England
> 
> This might be a bit intense for some people at the beginning and end. Small trigger warnings about mentioned self harm and stuff. Be careful.

Cupcakes

…

Francois groaned as his knee slammed against the basket that had been left in the hallway… again. "Oliver!" he shouted, kicking the basket to the side, not caring that it had toppled and that the freshly washed clothes were now all over the carpet. When he got no answer he sighed and called out a little louder. "Oliver, where the hell are you?"

"In the kitchen!" Oliver shouted, his voice bright and cheerful. Francois rolled his eyes. Of course he was in the kitchen. He hardly ever left the brightly lit area, not even for sexy time.

Francois shuffled his way into the kitchen, and was immediately assaulted by the little strawberry blonde. Oliver slung his arms around Francois' neck and hugged him close. Francois kept his arms by his side. "You left the basket in the middle of the hallway again" He grumbled. Oliver pulled away and pouted.

"I had to, my cupcakes were burning." Oliver said, turning back to the oven, where yet another batch was baking.

Francois wasn't sure why, but something in him snapped. "Fuck your cupcakes! There is more to life then the damn bakery." he shouted. Oliver gasped and pointed to the jar that was sitting on the counter. It was almost full of dollar bills.

"No cursing," he said. "Now put a dollar into the jar." He turned and grabbed a pot holder. He opened the oven and even Francois had to admit, the aroma was heavenly.

He rolled his eyes and grabbed the jar. Oliver was humming to himself, like nothing was wrong. Nothing was ever wrong with Oliver. He didn't care about Francois, or his problems. He didn't really care that he left things all over the house for Francois to trip on. He didn't care for sex or Francois. He hadn't called their adopted sons in weeks. He was just happy in his own little world, nothing affected him. All he cared for was his stupid cupcakes.

Francois hated it.

"Fuck you," he whispered. Oliver's humming stopped.

"What?"

Francois lifted the jar above his head, and threw it as hard as he could onto the ground. The jar shattered, and glass slid everywhere. Coins and paper rolled and fluttered and Oliver yelped. "Fr- Fra-"

"I said fuck you, Oliver." He muttered. Oliver's pretty blue eyes widened.

"Wh-"

"You don't care. About Allen or Matt, and most definitely about me. All you care for are your stupid, pointless cupcakes!" He yelled. He couldn't help it when his heart twisted when Oliver took a step away. But his mouth didn't stop moving, words didn't stop pouring out. "All you do is bake all day! You never want to fuck, you never want to call the boys. You leave shit all over the house for me to trip on." Oliver's eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. Francois had pushed him back into the counter. But Francois was too far in, too far to stop now. "You hum all day without a care in the world in your annoying voice, you never leave this damn kitchen. You haven't called my name in weeks." Francois threw his arms up in the air. He hated the way Oliver flinched.

They had been through so much in their relationship, but Francois had never hit him. Oliver had been hit enough in his life. They both had. But here he was, going so far as to make Oliver think he would. But he couldn't stop.

"Would you even notice if I was gone? Would you notice or care if I were to die?" Oliver's eyes turned defiant, though his lips trembled. Francois pressed Oliver further into the counter, and he hated the way the love of his life winced. "Would you notice if Allen or Matt were to die?"

Smack

Francois stood frozen, his face turned away from Oliver's. It stung. Oliver had slapped him. A red mark was already forming on his cheek. Oliver was breathing hard. His hand was clenched into the blue vest he was wearing, and it trembled like the rest of him.

"How… How dare you." he whispered, his voice broken and shaky. Francois brought a hand to his face. Oliver had slapped him. Oliver tried to say something else, but only gasping breaths came out. He swallowed thickly. "How c-could you?" He mumbled. He looked down and Francois couldn't look at his pretty blue eyes anymore. Everything rushed on him in a single moment. What had he done. Oliver had slapped him. It stung. Oh, God. What had he done to his Oliver.

"Oliver-"

"Get out."

Francois blinked. "What?"

Oliver looked at him, straight in his eyes. Francois' heart tore into two. Those weren't the eyes he fell in love with. "I said get out," he whispered. Francois didn't move. He could only stand there, dumbfounded. Oliver grit his teeth. He pushed against Francois, breaking the taller man out of his trance, and making him stumble. "GET OUT, FRANCOIS!" Oliver screamed, pushing him again.

Francois touched his chest where Oliver had pushed him. He nodded, his eyes unfocused. He turned away from Oliver and step by step, left the house he and Oliver had shared for years. He didn't even bother shutting the door behind him.

Oliver had slapped him. It stung.

.

Francois wasn't the biggest fan of the outdoors in the first place, but walking through the park he never hated it more. Everything reminded him of Oliver. The sky was the same pretty blue as Oliver's eyes. There was a father holding his son up to touch one of the trees that ringed the park. Oliver used to do that when the boys were small.

Francois sighed and stamped out the cigarette on the sidewalk. His heart clenched in his chest. How could he have said all of that to Oliver, the only one to show him any compassion. Sure, Oliver baked a lot, but he always came to their bed at night. He always had a shower with Francois. They always, always ate dinner together. Maybe he left stuff in the hallway, but Oliver had always struggled with focussing on one thing at a time, and Francois could always watch out where he was going more. And Francois knew that he loved their boys more than anything. They were his life.

And he loved Oliver's cupcakes.

What had he done? He'd said things that he could never take back. Oliver would never forgive him. Hell, he wouldn't forgive himself either. There was a great chance that he had lost the best thing that had ever happened to him, just because he had tripped over a basket in the hallway. He had to at least say goodbye, and try to apologize for what he did, for what lies and terrible things he had said. Even if it didn't work, at least he would leave Oliver knowing that Francois still loved him, and that he was so, so sorry for doing what he did.

He made his way slowly to his home, his head hanging in shame. He stopped at the door, and thought he should knock. But then again, what were the chances that Oliver would open the door to him, so he just went inside.

All of the lights were off, even the one in the kitchen. Francois walked slowly through the eerily quiet house. The floorboards creaked under his weight, and Francois hated it. There was no humming resounding throughout the halls, there were no delicious smells perfuming the kitchen. He stopped in front of the entryway to the dark room where Oliver should have been, but wasn't. He sighed when he flicked on the light, and guilt gripped his heart.

The kitchen was a disaster. The glass hadn't been picked up from earlier, and money was still spread all over the floor, but that wasn't what killed Francois. The cupcakes did.

They were completely destroyed. All of them. Except the red velvet. The chocolate ones were smashed against the wall. The vanillas ones were smeared onto the ground. Tins of frosting were splattered against the counters, and baking pans were everywhere. The red velvet were still sitting on the tray, the white frosting perfectly swirled on top. Those must have been the ones he was baking earlier.

Francois flicked the lights back off and made his way up the stairs after confirming that Oliver was not on the ground floor. He of course he checked their room first. Nothing. He thought for a moment and went towards Allen's old room. The door was shut, but Francois heard soft noises coming from inside.

He opened the door slowly and if his heart already wasn't hurting, it was now. Oliver sat curled up in Allen's blankets, his back against the wall. His face was flushed and tears streamed down his freckled cheeks. "Oh, Oliver," he whispered, stepping further into their son's room. Oliver flinched, but watched Francois as he slowly sat in front of him.

Francois opened his mouth the apologize, but Oliver beat him to it. "I'm so sorry, Francois." His voice was wet and trembling. "I should have never hit you." He gasped for a few breaths. "I sh- should be a better husband. I know all I do is bake, but that's all that distracts me from what I want to do every single day."

Francois felt his breath leave him. "What do you mean?" He whispered. Oliver looked away, guilty.

"Fr-Francois, all I want to do is get away from the pain, how I feel. I can't take it anymore" he sobbed. "All I feel is p-pain. In my chest." Oliver's voice was getting quieter, and his breathing was quickening.

Francois slowly took Oliver's shaking hands into his own, and pulled him forward. He glanced down at the others arms, and relief flooded him when he found that they were fine. Just old scars.

He guided Oliver to him, his arms wrapping around Oliver's back.

Oliver melted into him, his wet face hiding in the taller ones neck, his hands clutching the others chest. "I was so afraid," he cried. "I was so afraid that you wouldn't come back." Francois hugged his husband impossibly closer.

"I could never leave you." Francois whispered, kissing the side of Oliver's head. "You are the only one I have ever loved." Oliver sniffled and nodded. "All of those things I said," Francois' voice caught in his throat. "I was just angry at the basket in the hallway, angry that I didn't see it. I never meant any of it, Ollie." Oliver sobbed loudly into Francois' chest. "I know you love me, and the boys. I know you would notice if they even had the cold. I can never take back what I said, but I want you to know that I am so, so sorry." Francois voice had left him, and his eyes watered. "I can't lose you. I just can't."

Oliver pulled away. Snot clung to Francois' shirt, and it was soaked through, but he found that he didn't care. Oliver pushed some of the others hair back and caressed his cheek. "You won't lose me. I- I'll try to do better, to be more attentive to you, and call our sons more" he whispered. "I won't bake as often, and I'll h-have sex with you more, because I do miss it sometimes."

Francois nodded and leaned forward to kiss Oliver softly. "I will be more observant, and I will never get so angry again at you." Oliver smiled and Francois' heart melted. "And Oliver?"

Oliver leaned into Francois, his face pressing against his neck. "Hm?"

"I love your cupcakes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be out last night, but I fell asleep.
> 
> If any of you guys need someone to talk to about certain things, I am here for you. I am just a private message away. I might not being able to help much, but I know where you are coming from. You get emotional support anywhere you can find it.
> 
> Okay, so thank you for reading!
> 
> Please leave a review and a favorite!


	12. So I Stayed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo folks! One of bestie's just made dropped a sick burn on someone, and I died.
> 
> Anyways, this next pairing is one of my favorite's. I hope I did it justice. And I hope that the person who asked for it doesn't mind that I didn't really go with what she said (an epic way to ask the other out) because I was just hit with inspiration for this one.
> 
> This is requested by: TrinityCrystalPrincess89!
> 
> Hold on boys and girls. This one's a doozy.
> 
> The pairing today is: Sweden x Fem!Finland
> 
> Um, I'm not sure if this is gonna be triggering to people, because it will have depressing moments, but like it's depression brought on by pain. So, if you're sensitive, be careful please!

So I Stayed

…

Everyone has a story about how they met the one that they love. Sometimes it's a simple story, like they were high school sweethearts that never grew apart. Same thing goes for college sweethearts, or middle school.

Sometimes the story is more intricate, and they somehow met each other at a party or a bar. They quickly fell in love and now they have two kids and a house. Sometimes they have a dog. Or a cat.

The story gets even more elaborate sometimes. They hated each other for half their lives, but sooner or later realized that it was passion and love. Sometimes people travelled halfway across the world, and found that who they were talking to wasn't who they said they were, but find themselves loving them anyway.

I'm not sure where where our story would belong. I know it wouldn't be the simple, easy one. But I couldn't tell you if it was so complicated that no one could follow it. I guess I should start at the beginning.

The first time I met Berwald, he was asleep.

.

The coma ward had always calmed me down. I know that that is a pretty strange thing to say. Most would probably say that the coma ward was creepy, and the patient's reminded them of dead people. But I always liked the peace of it.

The steady rhythm of heart monitors, the offbeat of the oxygen concentrators. Everything had its own tune in the hospital. The psych ward was loud, but exciting like drums beating an unsteady cadence. The clinic was quiet, but anxious like the singer who didn't know the words to their song. The children's ward was wild and upbeat, like the guitar that carried the band. The coma ward, however, was the bass. It was quiet, and no one really cared to notice it, but if it wasn't there, they would feel something off.

I had had a rather hectic day in the clinic, calming down people who thought they had some terrible infectious disease, when in reality they had only caught the common cold, or the flu. I was more than happy to switch with one of the other nurses to monitor the coma ward. I had been doing my usual routine, checking clipboards and brain waves to see if there was any change. Sometimes there would be, and it looked as though the patient were having a dream, which was good to see. Sometimes they would be the same as the day before. Sometimes they had never changed.

I was in the middle of checking a young boys stats when a doctor called out my name.

"Tina!"

"Oh, hello Doctor!" The doctor before me was the head of the department, Alfred Jones. He rolled his bright, blue eyes.

"I told you to call me Alfred. Calling me "Doctor" all the time makes me feel like we didn't grow up together." He put his hands into his lab coat. He tilted his head a bit and started to walk.

I laughed, following him. "Yes, but Alice doesn't really like it much when I call you Alfred."

Alfred laughed and shook his head. "She doesn't like anything, but damn, I love her." He had a fond smile on his face, his cheeks a bit red.

I looked down, a soft smile on my face. Alfred and Alice had always been a good match for each other. They fell in the high school sweetheart category. They had been married since Alfred was twenty, and they had two beautiful children by the time he was twenty- four. They even had a dog.

I had always been a bit jealous of my childhood friend. To find a love like theirs was rare. I had always hoped I could find someone like that.

"So where are you taking me?" I asked after a bit of walking and small talk. Alfred smiled and slipped a folder out of his coat.

"I was wondering when you were going to ask me that." He flipped the file open and stopped in front of a door. A closed door.

A closed door was odd, since there was never really any need for one. Everyone was asleep, and family usually liked to keep the door open in case something miraculously happened. A closed door either meant that the patient was getting a sponge bath or they were about to be taken off of life support.

"Berwald Oxenstierna. Age: 25. Coma: Induced. Had surgery to remove a metastasized blood clot in his calf, induced coma because of pain" he recited. He looked down to me. I raised an eyebrow.

"Okay…?"

It was nothing new or random to see a patient put into an induced coma because of pain after surgery or some other medical reason. Alfred scratched the back of his head.

"Well, you see. While he was getting the surgery, and before, he kind of scared the other nurses and doctors. He's rather intimidating apparently."

I blinked. "Okay…?"

Alfred sighed and handed me the file. "Long story short, you're the only nurse he hasn't scared away, and now I'm assigning you to be his one and only nurse, and him to be your one and only patient until his hospital stay is completed."

I opened my mouth. Alfred cut me off. "I can't do anything about it, Tina. This was a direct order from Elizaveta." I slumped my shoulders.

Elizaveta was the head of the hospital. "But… But, what if he scares me?" I asked, clutching the file closer to my chest. This man sounded scary. How could he have scared so many people away? Was he a psycho? Or worse, a pervert?!

Alfred put his hand on my shoulder. "Godspeed, my friend."

And then he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open.

It took me longer than it should have to walk into the room. Never before had a door looked so intimidating to me. But I talked myself into it, only because I had to. He was asleep, how much trouble could he be? I would be fine. At least until he woke up.

I grasped the handle and flung the door open. I slowly walked towards the bed and peered at the man. I felt my stomach hit the floor. Not out of fear. Out of awe.

He was… handsome. Very handsome. I felt my face get hot. I shook my head, and grabbed the clipboard at the end of his bed. My heart twisted.

"No family, huh?" I asked, though I knew I wouldn't get an answer. I sat down in the chair that was near his bed, and looked at his face. I leaned my elbows onto onto my knees. "Me neither." I didn't usually speak to the patients, but something about this one, this Berwald, wanted to make me talk. Maybe it was because he was handsome, or maybe it was because he was a just as alone as I was. Besides, if I were to be his only nurse, and he my only patient, we might as well get comfortable with one another.

"My name is Tina Vainamoinen. I'm your nurse." Berwald didn't move. I scooted my chair up closer. "I'm your only nurse, actually." I thought for a moment. "Are you really all that scary when you are awake?"

Of course he didn't answer. It was so quiet, I could hear the clock ticking in the corner. "I don't think you will be. I bet you are very nice, they just didn't want to get to know you. I wonder if it is true that coma patients can hear when they are asleep. I wonder if you would tell me when you wake up." I leaned my arms onto his bed, and put my head down on top of them. "I wonder if you will tell me anything about yourself when you wake up. Like, your middle name, or if you have any hidden talents." I sighed to myself. "I bet you have lots of talents." I smiled as my eyes began to close, suddenly very tired. "Don't you worry. I'll uncover all of them. I will get to know everything there is to know about Berwald Oxenstierna."

.

Two weeks later Berwald woke up. It wasn't really a major affair since the coma was induced in the first place, we just had to take him off the medication that caused it. That, and Berwald had no one there to really celebrate it with him. Except for me.

I sat by his side until his eyes opened. And suddenly I knew why everyone was so afraid. His eyes were blue. Not the soft kind of blue that a caring mother has. Not the deep, sparkling blue like Alfred's. Berwald's eyes were icy, and bright. They were the intense blue only found in movies and books about the paranormal. But, I couldn't bring myself to feel any fear. Over the past two weeks, I had told Berwald all there was to know about me. I had noticed small things about him, even though he was asleep.

He had large calloused hands, but they seemed gentle. He had soft features, except his eyes. He was rather large in build, but for some reason, I couldn't see him using that against me, or anyone else.

When Berwald awoke, he was a bit dazed. He looked around the room, almost glaring. He had bags under his eyes despite sleeping for so long. He startled a bit when he noticed me, sitting by his side. He stared at me for a moment, but didn't say anything. I decided that he needed a little push.

"Hello. I'm Tina Vainamoinen. I'm your-"

"Nurse."

Berwald had a deep voice. It was heavy, but not unkind. I giggled.

"Yes, I am your nurse. Your one and only in fact." I stood and disconnected the oxygen machine, and took it off of his face. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

Berwald blinked and shifted, only to wince. "My leg hurts."

I smiled kindly at him. "Yeah, you're going to be feeling that for awhile, until the sutures heal. It will hopefully go away after that."

"Hopefully?" He asked, watching me walk around and turn off some things while I turned on others.

I frowned. "Sometimes, the pain lingers. Sometimes it never goes away." My hand subconsciously went to my stomach. "If I could be one hundred percent honest, Mr. Oxenstierna?"

He nodded. He didn't seem to talk much. I sat down in my chair once again. I looked at him straight in the eyes. "You might be in pain for the rest of your life. You might have to use a cane, or a wheelchair." He looked down, frowning.

"But, I can help you through it." I wasn't sure if I meant just the hospital stay or more. "I'll be taking you through physical therapy and you will be referring to Doctor Jones for your prescriptions if you need any." Berwald bit the inside of his cheek. I sighed and stood.

"I suppose you need time to take this all in. I will be in the hallway if you need me."

"Don't you have other patients?" He asked.

"No. You are my only one. Excuse me." I turned to go, but he grabbed my wrist.

"Stay."

So I stayed.

.

"DAMMIT!"

I flinched. "Berwald, it's okay." I tried to take his arm but he shook me off. He had fallen again while trying walk using the double bars. It had been four months since his surgery, and things weren't going like we thought they would. His pain hadn't gone away like we had hoped. He could hardly put any weight on his leg, and he refused to use a cane for anything.

I sighed and sat down in front of him. "Berwald-"

"I don't want to hear it. I don't need to hear how well I am doing." He buried his head in his hands. "I'm so useless as I am now. Just leave me alone. I can't do this anymore. It hurts too much." I felt anger wash over me.

"You're not useless. You can still build while you are in a wheelchair." Berwald's head snapped up. "You can still do so many things. You don't have it half as bad as the people who have lost their arms, or their legs. They don't give up on their third of eleventh try, because what else can they do? Besides try." I pushed his shoulders back. His eyes were so blue, so hopeless. "I can't have children, but I don't see myself as useless. I can't have any, but that doesn't mean I won't stop trying." I felt tears spring up in my eyes, and my throat was closing. "And here you are… Giving up. Like it's nothing." I stood and turned away, willing the tears to stop falling down my cheeks.

I heard something rustling behind me, but I didn't turn around. I was half tempted to run away, and beg Alfred for another assignment. Suddenly there was a weight on my back, almost toppling me over. I grabbed one of the hand bars for support, and looked over my shoulder only to come face to face with Berwald.

I felt my face heat up, and I knew it must have been cherry red. He leaned most of his considerable weight onto me. He had to lean down so his head would be on my shoulder. He put his face into my neck. "M' sorry."

That was all he said. I looked back to the ground. I reached up with my free hand at smoothed it through his hair. "It's okay." I couldn't help but forgive him. Not because I felt sorry for him, no not at all.

But because I had fallen in love with him.

.

"Berwald…?"

There was no answer. All I could here were soft sniffled and strangled breathing. It was well past 2 in the morning. I wasn't sure why I was even at the hospital. I should have been at home, sleeping in my twin bed, or listening to the sink leak. Of course upon getting to the hospital I went straight to Berwald's room. It was like a second home for me.

Six months had passed since Berwald's surgery. He finally accepted the cane, though he tried to not use it as often as possible. He seemed to always want to be near me as well. He would hold on to me for support, even when I knew he didn't need it. He sometimes brushed the hair out of my face. Whenever he was just lying in bed, he liked to hold my hand. I tried not to think too much about it, but what if… he liked me back?

"Berwald, are you okay?" I whispered into the dark room. I walked further in and placed my bag down on the ground next to the door. I shrugged my coat off and hung it on the hook next to Berwald's. I heard the bed creak as Berwald shifted. A hiss of pain. I rushed to the bedside, and turned on the table lamp. My stomach dropped, and my heart clenched like a fist had grabbed it and squeezed.

"Oh, Ber…"

His face was pale and wet with tears and sweat. His eyes were moving rapidly under his eyelids. He was dreaming. Probably having a nightmare. I sighed. This poor man. The pain he must feel every day. The feeling of being alone. I took his hand in my own and squeezed it. It was trembling. I reached to his face and caressed his cheek. I began to sing the song my mother used to sing to me when I was a child.

"You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are gray

You'll never know dear

How much I love you

Please don't take

My sunshine away"

Tears pricked my eyes, and I cried right along with him. I put my head on his chest, still humming. I hummed until my throat grew dry and my eyelids closed. I hummed until his breathing evened out, and our tears stopped. I hummed until we were both asleep, our hearts heavy and our minds muddled. I hummed as I clung to him, wishing he would love me back.

.

That morning had been nothing short of awkward. He had woken up before I had. He woke me up by slowly carding his fingers through my hair. We had stared at each other for awhile, in silence. My face was still red and blotchy, but he didn't seem to mind. He told me that he had never seen me in normal clothes before. I looked down at myself. I was wearing an old hoodie and pajama bottoms. I tried to leave. I needed to get changed into my usual scrubs. I needed to get away from the look he was giving me.

His eyes were on fire, and they wouldn't look away from my red face, my violet eyes. He looked at me as if I were the most precious thing in the world to him.

He wouldn't let me.

Berwald kissed me then. Slowly, painfully. I knew it then. I couldn't be his nurse anymore. Not when I wanted to be so much more. But when I tried to leave once again, he grabbed my wrist, told me not to go, his eyes so sad, but on fire.

So I stayed.

.

Berwald was packing his things to leave. I felt as though my heart was being torn out and my chest was being crushed, but I smiled none the less.

It had been eleven months since his surgery. He walked willingly with his cane. He told me that he would make his own once he got back to his shop. He hardly smiled, still. But I learned to see Berwald's smile in his eyes. The way they shone when he was happy. They didn't shine today.

He didn't want to leave. I didn't want him to either. But he was better now. He no longer cried at night. He could walk more or less. He could do other various activities without trouble, as we had discovered on those nights when neither one of us could sleep. I wished so desperately I could go with him, back to Sweden. He had even asked me to.

But I couldn't leave my job, my friends who were my only family, on the chance that Berwald and I could have worked for the rest of our lives. I couldn't leave, I had to-

"Go with him."

I looked behind me. It was Alfred. He was smiling, albeit sadly, at me. "W-what?" I opened and closed my mouth. He knew. He knew, but hadn't said anything to Elizaveta or anyone else. "I can't just leave you guys, or, or…" I sent Alfred a pleading look. He pulled me into a hug.

"Go with him Tina. I promise, we'll be okay."

I pulled away and kissed Alfred's cheek. "Okay."

So I went.

.

Everyone has a story about how they met the one that they love. Sometimes it's a simple story, like they were high school sweethearts that never grew apart. Same thing goes for college sweethearts, or middle school.

Sometimes the story is more intricate, and they somehow met each other at a party or a bar. They quickly fell in love and now they have two kids and a house. Sometimes they have a dog. Or a cat.

The story gets even more elaborate sometimes. They hated each other for half their lives, but sooner or later realized that it was passion and love. Sometimes people travelled halfway across the world, and found that who they were talking to wasn't who they said they were, but find themselves loving them anyway.

Berwald and I had fallen in love slowly. We didn't really even notice it happening until we couldn't be apart. We are the damaged kind of love. The love that is dependent on one another. Berwald and I now live together in Sweden. Berwald still uses a cane, but he gets around okay. We have an adopted son, named Peter. We couldn't be happier.

Oh, and we have a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. I really liked this one you guys. Please tell me what you think!


	13. Alone in These Empty Halls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, not much to say…
> 
> This one is for a guest named Sophie
> 
> Switzerland x Romano
> 
> I decided to make it FemRomano, because this fits into the same storyline as my China x Japan story (see chapter 5).
> 
> This one is a little darker, so be warned.

Alone in These Empty Halls

…

"Now, if we could all introduce ourselves to one another?"

Everyone in our circle of mismatched chairs sighed. We all already knew each other. We were never without each other. We ate together every day at eight in the morning, twelve in the afternoon, and six at night. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We went on walks together, those of us that could. Some of us shared rooms, like Kiku and Yao. Arthur and Alfred. Matthew and Gilbert. Francis and Ivan.

Me, you ask?

I slept alone. I usually ate alone, too, now that you mention it. Sometimes my brother would visit, and we would eat together. But, that wasn't very often. I went on walks alone. I am even alone in being the only female. Now that I think about it, I was the first one here, alone for years before everyone else came. Kiku, Alfred, Gilbert, Arthur, Francis, Ivan, Matthew, then Yao.

That was the order we introduced ourselves to this new "group therapist". He didn't look like much. Shoulder length, yellow blonde hair. His eyebrows never seemed to unknot. He had giant green eyes. I guess he was kinda tall, maybe a little handsome. He cleared his throat.

"Nice to meet you all. My name is Vash Zwingli. I am replacing Mrs. Elizaveta as of today, as she is on maternity leave."

Arthur raised his only arm. "Is she going to be coming back?" Vash nodded curtly.

"In a sense, yes. She also got a small promotion into individual therapy, so some of you will be seeing her instead of your old one."

My eyes snapped up from looking at my lap. Elizaveta and I didn't really get along that well. She just pushed the wrong buttons with me, I suppose. Yet again, who didn't. I didn't get along with Francis or Gilbert either. Or Alfred. Or Ivan.

"Moving on, I would like to know the disability each of you have, on the most basic level if you would." Some of us looked down or away. Alfred nudged Arthur, seeing as he was the most obvious choice to go first.

"Um, well," he sat up straighter. "I had a tumor in my right arm, and it had to be removed. I am almost done with rehabilitation, and should be leaving by the end of the month." Vash nodded and wrote something down on the green clipboard he was holding. Arthur glanced to Alfred.

"I have an anxiety disorder." He muttered out quickly, and looked to Ivan, who smiled and chuckled.

"Just a little case of OCD."

Vash stared at Ivan for a moment before nodding and writing.

Gilbert sat up in his seat, almost as if he was proud. "I have multiple personalities!" Then his eyes seemed to shift down, and he slumped back into his chair, once again ashamed. Matthew took Gilbert's hand before whispering that he was allergic to everything on Earth. Vash actually looked slightly impressed with that one.

Kiku was next. He still liked to keep his sentences short and quiet, even though he was talking more and more. "MS I have no feeling in my legs, and up until two months ago, I was mute."

Yao rubbed the back of his head before laughing, "I'm recovering from anorexia."

Francis' eyes were sad, "I am here because I hurt myself."

All eyes were on me. Green, blue, violet, red, purple, brown, hazel, blue- purple and green again. I looked in the middle of the circle, at the white floor.

I clenched my hands together. "Bipolar 1."

Or so they said. There was nothing wrong with me. Everyone has emotions… Mine are just… stronger… than most people's.

I expected Vash to ask more questions, or for him to say I was faking it. But, he didn't. He just… moved on. My gaze slipped to his. He wasn't even looking at me anymore. My eyes went back to my folded hands. I still had them clenched.

"I am going to try something new for you kids." Ivan snorted from his chair across from Vash.

"Kids? Some of us are your age. What are you, nineteen, twenty?"

"Twenty- one," Vash answered immediately, not even looking at Ivan. "As I was saying, you will be pairing up with one other person, and you will be doing everything together."

"But-" Francis interjected. Vash raised his hand. "Yes, I know that you all already do basically everything together. But in this exercise, you will be made to talk about yourselves for an hour to each other. Of course, your individual therapy, and appointments with the doctor's are not included in this exercise. Now pair up and tell me your partners."

I rolled my eyes. Anyone could tell who each other was going to choose. None of those choices included me. Yao went with Kiku, Ivan with Francis, Alfred and Arthur, Matthew and Gilbert. And me, myself, and I. Again, I was alone. I tried to pretend it didn't hurt.

Vash wrote down the names and looked to me. "Well, Lovina. It seems that you are going to be with me." My head snapped up so fast it almost hurt.

"What?" I asked.

He nodded and stood, putting the clipboard under his arm. "I could put you with another group, but talking is easier in groups of two. So, seeing as there is no other option, you are with me." I heard Ivan snicker, and sudden, crippling anger filled me.

I shot out of my chair so fast, it fell backwards and tumbled to the floor noisily. "Fuck that!" I shouted, my hands clenched at my sides. My stomach churned and my cheeks got red. Vash's eyes widened a fraction. I folded my hands together and pressed them onto my stomach, pushing into it. Out of my periphery, I saw Vash take a step towards me, but Arthur grabbed his arm, stopping him. "I would…" I ground out of my clenched teeth. I took a deep breath. "I would rather be alone." I let my arms drop. I turned around, with my head down, and walked out of the therapy room.

No one could know what a lie I had told.

I walked alone down the empty halls, and wished so desperately, that the halls were filled with friends, my brother, and maybe someone holding my hand. I wish I wasn't so… alone.

I got to my room, much too lived in, laid down, and fell asleep.

…

"Don't take her!" "She hit me!" "What's wrong with you?" "How could you?" "Give me back my daughter!" "This is Feliciano, your brother." "Please, I love her! Don't take her!" "Stop faking!"

There's nothing wrong with me

"Lovina hit me!" "Why is she doing this?" "You don't even have a reason to be depressed." "Why are you so angry?" "NO!" "She never stops crying." "Why can't you just be normal?" "GIVE HER BACK!"

…

BAM

I shot upright in my bed with a gasp. I looked at my digital clock. 12 pm on the dot. I missed breakfast. My stomach growled.

I got out of the bed and took off my sweaty clothes. What had I dreamed about? Was it a nightmare?

BAM

I sighed shortly and looked to the door. I quickly got changed into new clothes and went to investigate the noise coming from right outside my door. I opened it quickly and glanced out.

BAM

"The hell?"

Vash jumped a little and looked up at me in all my morning glory. He was sitting against the wall, a pillow shoved between his back and the wall. He was wearing slippers, and… pink pajamas. He was furiously writing in his clipboard and slamming the finished papers into a binder on the floor to his right. Every time the bindings clipped into place;

BAM

Vash put the clipboard onto his lap and stood, rubbing his back. I blinked. "Did you… did you sleep here?"

He stretched his arms above his head. "Of course," he said, as if it was obvious. "I did say that partners have to do everything together." He picked up his pillow, and fluffed it a bit. "As I understand, you have a couch in your room?"

Before I could say anything, he entered my room and threw the pillow onto my couch. He started to take his frilly pajamas off, and I turned around quickly.

"Have some decency!" I shouted, my face turning red. I stomped out of the room and made my way down to the cafeteria, not even telling Vash where I was going.

No one spared me a glance as I grabbed a plain bagel and sat down. Kiku and Yao were more gooey than ever, Yao sitting in the others lap as he ate small bites of food. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, so Alfred was sitting with Ivan and Francis, laughing and talking. Matthew was shovelling pancakes into his mouth, and Gilbert looked unnaturally shy as he watched Matthew, picking at his own plate.

I split my bagel into halves and spread some cream cheese onto them. I was in peace for about three more second before Vash sat down in front of me, blocking my view of the rest of the cafeteria.

"Well, this is as good a time as any," he said. I blinked at him, my mouth full of bagel and cheese.

"What?" I said with my mouth full.

He had taken out that stupid clipboard out again. "To talk about yourself."

I swallowed. "What?" I asked again.

"If you recall, I said yesterday during the meeting that you are to sit down for an hour and talk about yourself to your partner. I am your partner. Now talk." He took out a pen and clicked it, and waited.

I snorted. "If you think I am going to talk to you for a whole hour, then you're crazy. I don't even talk to my therapist for more than five minutes." I wrapped my half eaten bagel in tin foil and tossed it into the trash can to my left. "Especially while you have that stupid clipboard."

Vash put his pen down. "Why would you think my clipboard is stupid?"

I took the pen and stuck it into my back pocket. He didn't say anything, or even react. "It makes people think they are nothing but a report. I mean, we might as well be that to you, but we all have enough issues. We don't want to be a report on top of all the other shit we deal with. So maybe you should wait to write down whatever it is you do until you're done talking with someone."

Vash folded his hands. "Hm, interesting. I never thought about it that way." He folded a hand through his hair. "Could you tell me one of these issues you have, other than being a report?"

I stood and clenched my hands. "You." I turned and left the cafeteria, not caring if he followed or stayed.

And yet, looking back, when I realized he hadn't followed, it kinda stung a little.

That was the first time anyone had eaten with me. For once, I wasn't… alone.

…

This continued for weeks. I would get to the cafeteria first, and Vash would follow, eat with me, try to talk with me, and wouldn't follow me when I left. I also started to stay in my seat longer and longer with him until we had sat there for one hour, then two. It was kinda… nice.

Vash was nice. He was warm when you got down to talking to him. He stopped with the whole clipboard thing. He laughed easily. His eyebrows still never unfurrowed, but his eyes smiled gently.

And no matter how much I would like to admit that I didn't start opening up to him, and that I kept shutting him down, I couldn't. I slowly started to talk about my disorder, my loneliness, my pain. I told him that my mother couldn't take care of me, but suddenly had the money for Feliciano. How everyone thought I was faking my disorder.

He talked about his home life, about his sister. He explained that she was the one who made the pajamas.

But there was something still holding me back from telling him everything I was feeling.

The feeling of my heart pounding when he was close to me. The feeling of falling in love with him, his kindness.

Maybe it was the crippling feeling that he would turn around and begin to hate me. Maybe it was that I was so angry at nothing, and that anger held me back. Maybe it was the overwhelming sadness.

…

Today, when I woke up, the world was gray. My body ached, my head ached, my chest ached. I didn't want to cry, but I did. I desperately wanted to cry, but I didn't. I wanted to scream, to scream until my chest was torn open, and my heart was shattered. I wanted to talk to Vash but… Oh God, I didn't want to. My whole being rejected the idea of talking to Vash, but it longed for his voice, his kind words.

I sat up slowly and looked at my clock. One in the morning. I took a deep breath and stood. I needed my emergency meds. This feeling overwhelming me would be worse by morning if I didn't take them. I glanced at Vash sleeping on the couch. His legs were bent because he couldn't fit. It couldn't be comfortable.

I opened my door slowly and shut it silently. The lights in the hallway were always on. The halls were cold, empty. I passed by Kiku's room, Ivan's room, and stopped by Arthur's. The door was open. I leaned in, just out of the barest hint of curiosity. Alfred was in his bed, snoring loudly. Arthur was once again, nowhere to be seen.

I continued to walk down the hall, past Matthew's room and into the cafeteria. It was empty. I kept walking, through the next hallway. It was empty as well. I took a left and found that the medication room door was open, though none of the lights were on. I knocked softly on it and opened it.

"Arthur?" I muttered, stepping into the room. The medication room was one of the only rooms in this flight of the hospital with a window. Arthur sat on one of the cots and stared out of it at the nights sky. He hadn't responded to me, but he did look at me. The look in his eyes…

"Arthur, what is it?" I came closer and sat down. Not so close as to touch, but close enough to talk.

He looked back out to the pitch black sky. There was no moon, or stars. He took a breath. Then another. Then, he spoke.

"Do you think… Do you ever think God has it out for you?"

I looked at my lap. "I stopped believing in God a long time ago."

He hummed and rubbed at his shoulder, at what was left of his other arm. "I still believed. I believed because that is what gave me hope. I thanked Him, because I was still alive, even if I was missing an arm."

I nodded, and looked out the window, trying to see what he was staring at. "But," he continued. "He took that thank you, and shoved it back into my face." He said bitterly.

I looked to him. "What do you mean? You get to leave here in, what, two days?" Arthur laughed, but there was nothing joyful to it.

"I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving until they take my leg. And then I recover again. And then what? Will another part of me be riddled with cancer? My other arm, leg? My heart?" Bitter tears fell down his cheeks. My heart plummeted into my stomach. Arthur was one of the only people who I got along with, and I was actually happy for him that he was leaving. My body suddenly felt numb.

"Your cancer-"

"It's spread. To my leg." He cut me off, his hand covering his face. "I was so close to going home. So close to being free. They were going to let Alfred come with me… Oh God, how am I going to tell Alfred?"

"I have to-" I took a breath. "I have to…" I folded my hands into my stomach, and pressed them into my stomach hard. Anger, numbness, anger, numbness. I was so… angry. "I'm so sorry… I have to… go…" I gasped out. I barely saw Arthur nod before I flew out of the medication room.

I ran all the way back to my room, flung the door open and let the anger clawing and tearing me apart out.

"FUCK!" Things started flying around my room. I don't remember picking anything up, or throwing anything, but my lamp was suddenly shattered, by pillows torn, feathers everywhere. "FUCK, WHY?!"

"Lovina?!" I heard Vash shout from behind me. I didn't care, I didn't care, I didn't care. I spun around, tears streaming down my cheeks. I could hardly see, hardly breath. Vash took a step towards me, his hand outstretched. I smacked it away from me.

"STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!" I screamed at him. I could hear doors opening from the hall. I threw a pillow at Vash, my heart tearing itself into pieces at the hurt look in Vash's pretty eyes. Yet he still walked to me. "D- DON'T TOUCH ME!" I hit his chest, his arms with all my strength. He held my wrists with his hands. "S- stay awa-away from me." I hiccuped. I couldn't breath. My throat ached. He brought his arms around me waist and my shoulders, dropping my wrists. They fell lifelessly by my sides.

"V- Vash…" I whined. He shushed me and began to rock me back and forth, hushing me and mumbling that it would be okay. My tears made a wet spot in his shirt. I sobbed, cried, screamed, but he didn't let me go until I was too tired to stand. He carried me to my bed, tucked me in, kissed my forehead, his eyes so sad, so broken.

I was so tired.

…

I didn't do anything today. I spoke to no one. I didn't eat. I just slept and sat. Vash sat with me sometimes. He sometimes told me stories. His voice was warm, but I didn't feel it. Sometimes he held me while I slept.

…

When I woke up after a week of nothingness and numbness, Vash wasn't there. I rubbed my crusty eyes and looked down at my bed.

"His clipboard…?" I mumbled, my voice was dry and I sounded terrible. I looked around for him, but my door was open and he was gone. I tapped my finger on the clipboard and thought for only a moment before I opened it.

It was… a journal. Each paragraph separated by a date, and small title. I flipped to the front and my heart started to thunder.

May 19, 2016

Today, I met my patients. There is Ivan, Alfred, Arthur, Kiku, Francis, Yao, Gilbert and Matthew. Ivan is a little intimidating, but the other doctors warned me of that. Then there is Lovina. A girl with Bipolar 1. Her file said she goes from manic anger to depression, but she is having a few good days it seems where she seems fine. I cannot help but notice how pretty she is, even when she is angry. She tries her best to contain it, but she has quite the mouth on her. Is is odd that I find it slightly endearing?

What? Vash thought I was pretty? Endearing even? I shot a glance at the door and flipped through the papers on the board. Most of them were normal entries, only changing in day but not content. Many began to talk more and more about me, at my smile, my humor, my beauty. I must have been halfway through by the time I started to cry. It was the last paragraph that had me sobbing into the paper, my tears streaking the words.

August 3, 2016

I wish there were a way to tear one's own heart out, one's own brain, one's own mind. I wish to bare the burden of Lovina's mind. I wish I could understand all the workings of her tortured mind. I want to replace her with me. She doesn't deserve this. No one does. She bare's it so quietly, this burden she has. I want to kiss away her anger, her troubles. So much so, it aches. I do not want her to hurt anymore. I pray to God that he helps her, because I no longer know what to do. I ache to love her outright, to help. It is tearing me up inside. Please God… Help her. Help her… Help my beloved Lovina.

I closed the clipboard, and tucked my face into my bent legs. How could it hurt so much to be loved?

"Lovina?"

I looked up, snot and salty tears mixing on my face. Vash stood in the doorway, his eyes wide. He was carrying a tray full of food. He made his way into the room and put the tray down on the bedside table. He sat next to me and looked as if he wanted to touch me, but didn't know how.

"Lovina, what is it? Does something hurt?" He asked, his beautiful eyes searching my body.

My arms flung out and brought Vash to me by his shirt. His arms slowly wound around my shaking body. He held me gently, but firmly. I could feel his heart beating. "I love you." I whispered into his ear. He stiffened and leaned away.

"What?" He whispered, touching my cheek.

I tried to wipe away my tears, but they wouldn't stop coming. "I love you, Vash. Oh my God, I love you, and it hurts. It hurts so bad."

Vash brought me close again, and rocked me once again. "I know it hurts. I feel it too. I know Lovina, I know it hurts." I buried my face into his neck, and cried until my lungs hurt. "I know it hurts, my love, I know. Shh, my love, shh".

I cried until the sun set, and he rocked me. Throughout the rest of our life, when I cried, he rocked me. Even when we were old and wrinkled, he rocked me. And he never misunderstood. He would whisper "Shh, my love, shh, I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this and all the breaks I take. I have a bad shoulder and back, so it takes a few weeks to recover from a writing spree. There should be a few chappies out over the next few day, but it depends on how I feel.
> 
> If you guys need help in any sort of way feel free to PM me. I will listen.
> 
> With lots of love <3
> 
> Please review!


	14. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hihi, this is gonna be a kinda short, sweet, weird (like really weird) one. Sorry it took so long to get to it!
> 
> This pairing (and plot) was chosen by: Amethystfairy1!
> 
> Our pairing is: Hong Kong x Iceland!
> 
> PSA: I wanted you guys to know that I do these on a first come, first serve basis. So I do them in the order that I get them, so you don't have to ask me twice. It may take a hot second, but I WILL get to them.
> 
> PSA2: I am very sorry to say, that I DO NOT do threesome pairings… I don't enjoy writing, or reading them, and I don't want to end up with a story that isn't up to par because I didn't enjoy writing it. I am very sorry, but if those who have wanted one is willing to give me another pairing, I will do it in place of their original.
> 
> It will be done in the order that your original request was, so it will not be pushed to the back, if that makes sense. If you have any questions, feel free to PM me.
> 
> Anyways…

Lost

…

"Where could he have gone?" Emil muttered to himself, looking behind another tree. "And why are we in the middle of a forest?" He sat down hard on a fallen tree.

He was tired and sweaty. His shirt was ruined. His hair was brown with dirt and leaves. He and his one year boyfriend had been sitting comfortably by their tent talking to Nikolas and Mathias when Emil noticed that his puffin had gone missing.

He had been looking for him for about an hour, and it was getting dark. He sighed to himself and stood back up. He decided that Mr. Puffin would find his way back eventually, and that he would head back… if only he knew how to get back himself.

"Um, I think I went…" He looked to the left and to the right, but neither one of those directions seemed to be very familiar. He scratched the back of his head. "Well, shit."

He was lost.

…

"Has anyone seen Emil?" Leon asked, smoothing his hair back. He was getting frustrated and worried. Emil had been gone for more than two hours. It was pitch black outside. He had looked around the campsite and surrounding forest with no avail. Emil seemed to have disappeared.

Nikolas looked up from the fire he was starting on a few pieces of wood. "He told me he went to look for Mr. Puffin." His eyes turned more concerned. "Is he not back yet?"

Leon put his hands on his hips. "No, he isn't." Nikolas stood. "I'm getting worried. He should have been back by now."

"I can go send Mathias out." Nikolas said, already turning to get his husband. Leon grabbed his arm.

"No, it'll be no use to us if two people get lost in the woods."

Nikolas crossed his arms. "Well, do you have any other ideas? We both know that Emil is afraid of the dark, so we need to hurry."

Leon's eyes sparkled. "Maybe he just needs a little light."

…

It was dark. The trees blocked the moon and the stars and any light that might've made seeing easier. Emil sighed and looked up. All he could see was darker shapes against a dark sky. He rubbed his arm.

He tried to ignore his pounding heart and his shaky hands. He wasn't afraid. He fisted his hands. "I'm twenty, dammit. I shouldn't be afraid of the dark anymore." But he was. He always had been since he could remember.

He kept walking straight. He had tried to go a few different directions in the last few hours, but he still hadn't found his way back. How had he gotten so turned around.

"Man, it's really dark," He mumbled to himself. He started walking faster and faster, not even keeping track of where he was going. He kept going faster until he was running as fast as he could.

He wanted to be back at the campsite. He wanted to be with his brother and Mathias. He wanted to be sitting in between Leon's legs with Leon's arms around him and his back to Leon's chest. Then maybe it wouldn't be so dark.

He kept running, his eyes starting to water. He didn't even know where he was going anymore, or care. He kept running, running, running, run-

BOOM

"AH!"

…

"EMIL?!" Leon shouted. He looked back. "Stay back." He said to Nikolas, and Nikolas took a few steps back. Leon lit another firework and ran away. It took a few seconds before it shot into the air and exploded.

BOOM

They stood and listened silently for a moment. Nikolas rubbed his head. "Dammit. Where did he go?"

Leon sighed, his heart falling. "I don-"

"AH!"

Their eyes snapped to each other. "Did you hear that?" Leon asked. Nikolas nodded.

"It sounded like Emil."

…

"Ow, ow, ow."

Emil let go of his ankle, and it throbbed in pain. He looked up at the hill he had just tumbled down

BOOM

Emil looked up just in time to see the bright yellow firework diminish.

He squinted at the bright, and quickly fading light. "Leon?"

Then he heard him.

"EMIL?!"

Leon had come for him. "LEON!" He tried to stand up, but his ankle buckled underneath him. "Dammit, LEON I'M DOWN HERE!"

He heard Leon say something to someone else, probably Nikolas. Then it sounded like his voice got quieter. "N-No, LEON,I'M DOWN HERE, PLEASE, LEON!" He couldn't hear him anymore. "P-please…" He felt tears sting his eyes. "LEON!" He tried to stand again, but scorching pain brought him back down into the leaves. "L-LEON!"

"Emil."

Emil gasped and looked behind him, and there he was. Leon held a flashlight. His shoulder length hair was a mess and his face was scratched.

"L-Leon…" He felt something wet drip onto his hand. Leon sighed and wiped the tears falling from Emil's cheeks. Emil shot his arms out and pulled Leon to him.

"I thought you didn't hear me." Leon kissed the side of Emil's head.

"I was just trying to find another way down here."

Emil squeezed Leon a little harder. "Say that next time, you ass." He sobbed, nuzzling into Leon's shoulder.

Leon chuckled, "I'm sorry, I was just so happy that we had found you."

Emil sat back. "We?" He wiped his eyes.

"Nik was with me, but I told him to go back and get the first aid kit in case you were hurt." His eyes widened. "Are you hurt?"

Emil nodded and showed Leon his ankle. Leon hissed. "It's swollen. Does it feel broken?"

Emil shook his head. "I think it might just be sprained." Leon snorted.

"Just?"

Emil just smiled and leaned onto Leon, his head on his shoulder. "Thank you for finding me."

Leon placed his hand on Emil's neck, and kissed the side of his head again.

"Anytime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. C:
> 
> Didja like it?
> 
> If so please review and favorite!


	15. Odd Couple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ollo.
> 
> A Broken Imagi-NATION has requested this next, kinda odd, pairing!
> 
> That pairing iiisss: Japan x Switzerland!
> 
> This one is going to be kinda reminiscent of the France x Russia story, but this one is going to be much more happy and upbeat. There isn't much dialogue, but those are good sometimes too.
> 
> It is extremely short… I hope you don't mind!
> 
> Onto the story!

Odd Couple

…

Everyone said that they didn't "go" together. They looked too different. One was tall with blonde hair and bright green eyes. The other had black hair with honey brown eyes, and was rather short for a grown man.

Nobody saw that they used that to their advantage when the short one would sit in between the legs of the other, his back to the others chest while they watched Japanese horror movies together.

People often said that they didn't look like a couple. They never really held hands in public, and the blonde one didn't seem to ever smile at the brunet. They didn't even speak to each other much.

What those people didn't see was the tender way they shared soft touches in the morning. A brush of the hands at breakfast, and gentle kiss on the back of the neck when the short one made supper.

Their names even sounded too different to be "the same". The tall one was Vash, the short one Kiku. They sounded like oil and water. They didn't mix.

How could anyone know how they reverently whispered each others names in the late hours of the night, or in the young hours of the morning, as the sheets tangled around their bare bodies. Their names where something treasured, something beloved by the other.

The people turned up their noses at the way the two interacted, how Vash spoke and Kiku refrained. 'How could he let Vash say that?' They wonder. How could Kiku stay silent when Vash threatened those around him for just being themselves, or spending too much money?

What they refused to know was how Kiku would listen to Vash on the nights that his eyes were wet, and his arms trembled. How he cried to sleep, his face buried in Kiku's small chest, as Kiku whispered "hush, Vash, hush" into his ear. They refused to see that Kiku would talk and talk about his love for Vash, and Vash for Kiku.

The people didn't want to know how this couple, this odd couple, "went". They wanted to shut their eyes and stop their ears from learning about them, about their wants and needs, about their love. Vash is what Kiku wanted, and Kiku is what Vash needed.

They couldn't see the small smiles or the warm, soft touches. How they looked at each other, or how they spoke.

But they didn't need them to. They were content with the way they were. They loved, and lived, and laughed. And with that, they were happy.


	16. The Locked Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! This chapter is brought to you by: fishstick1999!
> 
> They have requested: Russia x Canada!
> 
> A special thanks to fishstick, because they have reviewed almost every single one of my chapter's, and for that I am thankful!
> 
> This one is steamy ;)

The Locked Door

…

In every estate, there were hundred upon hundreds of rooms. Some were for decoration, some were for sitting and having tea. Some where for the men of the realm to discuss politics and drink bourbon. The very top floor was for the servants of the estate, the bottom for the Lords and Ladies and their guests.

In this particular house there were four hall boys, three ladies maids, two valets, six maids, two footmen, the cook and her assistant, and of course the housekeeper and the Butler. There is no need to go into the who's who for every position, but there are some people to note. The two Valets were twins, Alfred and Matthew. Alfred was the Valet to Lord Winter Braginsky, and Matthew to Lord Braginsky's son, Lord Ivan. The Butler happened to be Matthew and Alfred's father, Arthur, and the cook their mother Francesca. The ladies maids are as follows; Elizaveta was Lady Natasha Braginsky's, Lili was Lady Katyusha's, and Chel was Lady Natalia's. Funny enough he footmen were also twins, Lovino and Feliciano.

Everyone upstairs was already awake, and bustling to finish what they hadn't the night before, trying to get it done before the family woke up. Alfred slipped behind his brother, who sat reading a small note at the servant's dining table. "Another note?" he asked right in Matthew's ear, making the other jump.

Matthew sighed after recovering from the small scare. "Yes." Matthew folded the note and placed it in his breast pocket. "He says he can get dressed himself today as well."

Alfred sat down next to Matthew and snagged a piece of toast from the plate in the middle of the table. "I wonder why though. You hardly ever dress him anymore, not even for special dinners or events." Matthew sat back in his chair and rubbed his forehead.

He remembered when he dressed Ivan everyday. They would talk for far longer than they should have, and Ivan was always late for dinner. Ivan used to ask Matthew to sit down with him, and they would sit so close their legs would touch. They would touch each other probably more than others would deem appropriate, but Matthew didn't feel that anything was wrong with it. It made him feel happy, and wanted, and Ivan seemed to feel the same, but one day Ivan shut him out with a note and a locked door.

It made Matthew ache in the worst way possible.

More servants began to fill up the empty chairs at the table.

"I'm not sure. It makes me seem worthless, and I feel as though I am not earning my keep, or my title as a Valet."

Alfred grabbed another slice of toast. "Well, that would be the case if you didn't pick up so much of the slack that Feliciano leaves. You're basically Third Footman if you think about it." Matthew nodded. "And as for your title as Valet," Alfred said through his full mouth, "you worked hard to get there, so don't put yourself off."

Matthew smiled at his brother. "Thanks Al, that actually helped a little." Alfred glared at the other.

"What do you mean 'actually'?"

"I do hope that you left some food for the rest of us, Mr. Jones."

Everyone practically jumped out of their seats when Arthur came into the dining hall, even Matthew and Alfred.

"Of course I did da- Mr. Kirkland." He muttered, turning a little red. Matthew smirked a little. Arthur came to the head of the table and sat down, and everyone else followed. There was already a cup of tea in Arthur's spot. Arthur took a sip, and smiled softly. It was perfect, as always.

…

Matthew took a deep breath and knocked on the white door. Arthur had sounded the dressing gong, and even though he had gotten the note, he wanted to make sure Ivan had gotten everything on properly. When no reply came, he hesitantly tried the handle, but the room was locked. Like usual.

He felt his heart fall, and he couldn't figure out why. Sure he felt his title was useless, but that didn't mean he should feel this sad about it.

Ivan had been sliding notes under the door and refusing to open it for weeks now. The notes were usually only one or two sentences, mostly telling Matthew not to bother with him, or that he would dress himself, and since Matthew only really needed to come downstairs for dressing Ivan, he never got to see him anymore.

He frowned and turned away from the door before stopping and taking the note he had gotten earlier out of his pocket, and a pen that he always kept on him. He quickly scrawled out a message and slid it under the door before he had time to think.

When will I see to you again?

He crouched in front of the door for a few moments before he heard a door to his left shut. He quickly stood up and looked over the Elizaveta who had a box of jewels and a dressing gown draped over her arm. She looked at Matthew curiously.

"What are you doing, Mr. Williams?"

Matthew's cheeks turned a soft red. "Nothing, Miss. Hedervary." Elizaveta cocked an eyebrow, and her eyes shot to the floor for a second before looking at Matthew again.

"You were obviously up to something."

Matthew glanced to the floor and saw that the paper he had slipped under the door was back at his feet. "Ah, well, um…" he bent and took the paper. "I will see you upstairs." With that, he turned and fled through one of the hidden passages, his face beet red.

…

"There is to be a formal dinner party on Saturday at the Bondevik estate, so you shouldn't need to cook for anyone upstairs this weekend." Arthur told his wife who was working away at the stove and table, mixing and stirring.

"Ah, that is the best news I have heard all week." She said, dusting off her flour coated hands before taking her husband's. She leaned in close and kissed his cheek. "Perhaps we could make a day of it as well, hm?" Arthur smiled and kissed her forehead. "They will be gone until Monday, no?" she asked.

"Yes, they will be." Arthur brought up and hand and moved some hair out of Francesca's face. "I still have things to do, but I believe I could spare some time."

Francesca rolled her blue eyes, and separated from Arthur. "I am honored that you should spend your spare time with me." She smiled and stirred some sauce in the pan on the stove. Arthur shook his head. "You know that isn't what I meant."

Francesca waved him off when Matthew came into the room, smiling ear to ear. His mother couldn't help but smile too. "And what are you so happy about, my boy?"

Matthew went to his mother and kissed her cheek. "I am going to finally be able to see to Lord Ivan."

Arthur perked up at that. "Oh?"

"Yes, he says that it would be odd if he went to the Bondevik estate without a valet, so I will be attending him this weekend." Francesca's smile dimmed.

"I suppose any reason is good enough."

Matthew sighed, "Mother. At least he's taking me, even if he doesn't use me while we are there."

Francesca smiled and pat one of Matthew's cheeks. "I suppose you are right." There was a small commotion as Feliciano came down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"They are about ready to come through Mr. Kirkland." He chirped, his smiling face lighting up the room.

Arthur placed one last kiss on Francesca's cheek before following Feliciano up the stairs to tend to the family.

…

The weekend felt like it would ever get there, especially because Matthew was so excited to be useful, (and to see Ivan again) but it was finally here. He had gone up to collect Ivan's bags, and was expecting Ivan to already be outside waiting for the car, but when Matthew opened the door, Ivan was still inside the dark room, his shirt half buttoned and clothes all over the floor and bed.

Ivan was anything but small. He was a good foot taller than Matthew, and twice as big. His pale chest was broad and taught with muscle. He had the same dark purplish eyes his mother had, and the silver hair of his father. Matthew couldn't help but think that Ivan was incredibly handsome.

Matthew blinked in surprise, his thoughts returning to work. "M'Lord?" He whispered, not leaving the doorway, but standing up straight. Ivan whipped around and glanced to the door, as if he had forgotten to lock it.

"Ah, Williams." He muttered, his face turning a pinkish color.

Matthew looked down. "Matthew is fine…" He looked around the messy room, trying to avoid looking at Ivan's toned chest. "Did you not pack yet, Lord Ivan?"

Ivan's face exploded with color. "I, um, had forgotten about this weekend completely. It slipped my mind." His eyes flitted to Matthew's face for a moment. "I was thinking about something else." He began to pick up his crumpled shirts and started to shove them into the cases that were laid open. "A-and just Ivan is fine, da?" He still hadn't buttoned his shirt.

Matthew gasped, taking a step into the room, waving his hand. "I couldn't M'Lord. If Mr. Kirkland would to ever find out, I would be out of a job," he laughed. An uncomfortable silence followed while Ivan kept pushing shirts into the cases. Matthew couldn't take anymore of it.

"Please, M'Lord, let me help." Matthew went to one of the cases and started to fold the shirts and pants that were just haphazardly thrown in them. Ivan stopped and came closer to Matthew.

"You don't have to…" he said, but Matthew cut him off, forgetting his manners.

"Please, Lord Ivan," he snapped, looking directly into Ivan's eyes. "This is my job." Ivan just stared at him for a moment, and all the color drained from Matthew's face. "I- I'm sorry, M'Lord, I shouldn't have spoken that way to you."

Ivan blinked, and turned away, his whole face, including his ears, were red. "No, no. You are right." Matthew licked his dry lips and went over to Ivan, his face heating up as well. Matthew touched Ivan's shoulder, and turned him so he would be standing chest to chest with Matthew. Ivan coughed nervously, and he looked anywhere but Matthew.

Matthew's hands went to Ivan's buttons, and he began to button them slowly, his eyes never leaving Ivan's. "This is also my job." Matthew said, his voice a rough whisper. Matthew's gaze flitted to Ivan's lack of belt. He took the ends of Ivan's shirt and ever so slowly tucked them into Ivan's pants, starting at the front and ending with the back, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. Ivan was finally looking at Matthew, his eyes burning into Matthew's. Their breathing was coming faster, and their faces were redder than cherries.

Matthew leaned closer to Ivan, his small chest rubbing against Ivan's as he grabbed a belt that was left out on the bed behind them. "To dress…" He pulled the belt carefully through the loops, his lithe fingers playing at Ivan's sides and belly. He did the belt buckle at the perfect length, his hand brushing the front of Ivan's pants. Matthew took a deep breath, and pulled at Ivan's pants to get them to the proper height. "... and to undress you." He breathed.

Ivan swallowed, and brought his face closer to Matthew's. Matthew inhaled sharply and took a step back, his hands going behind his back. Ivan tried to not show his disappointment, but failed horrifically. Matthew cleared his throat and gestured to the piles of clothes around them.

"We should finish this up. Your car is going to be here soon."

Ivan nodded sadly and handed Matthew another pair of pants.

.(flips hair, Imeanyou'rewelcome).

The Bondevik's were an interesting family, to say the least. Lady Nicole and her husband Lord Mathias were kind enough, but they had an odd staff. The cook only seemed capable of making fish or fish. The Butler was scary beyond all reason, and his wife, the housekeeper, was the sweetest thing to walk the earth. She doted on the guest staff like they were her own children.

They had no maids or footmen, and only had one valet for Mathias and Nicole's brother, Emil, and the housekeeper dressed Nicole.

Matthew was content. He looked had looked after Ivan this whole weekend and had yet to be locked out again. They had even begun to talk like they used to, which made Matthew the happiest.

As Matthew took the last few bites of his breakfast, the dressing gong rang, and he stood to do his duties, when the Butler stopped him at the stairs.

"I'm sorry Mr. Braginsky, but Lord Braginsky said that he wished to dress himself today." Matthew felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"What?"

The Butler gave him a slip of paper. "He gave this to me this morning." Matthew took the note with trembling hands. The Butler bowed slightly and went up the stairs to presumably serve breakfast (fish.) Matthew walked back to the table and plopped down in his chair, staring at the folded slip of paper.

Alfred sighed sadly, and pat his brother on the shoulder before he went up to tend to his duties. Elizaveta looked to Matthew, stopping her sewing.

"Has he stopped his dressings again?" She asked, her green eyes sad. Matthew nodded let out a small sigh.

"What about you, won't her ladyship need you?" Elizaveta shook her head and lifted her needle.

"She went out to luncheon with Lady Nicole, and will ring when she needs me."

Matthew hummed and stood. "I'm going to go up."

…

I can dress myself, and pack, so do not worry about me.

Matthew crumpled the paper and threw it against the wall in frustration. Why was he like this. He would let Matthew get close, then he would shut him out again. He would give Matthew some sort of… hope. Then he would crush it.

And Matthew was not going to take it anymore.

He stomped out of his temporary room and rushed down the stairs, hoping Ivan would still be in his room. If he wasn't Matthew would wait. He went as fast as possible to Ivan's room and knocked loudly. No one answered. He tried the handle, but of course, it was locked. He let out a frustrated groan and dug into his breast pocket on his vest. He pulled out a thin wire with a curved end.

He only thought for a moment and began to pick the lock. His brother had taught him, and who knows where Alfred had picked it up. He smiled when he heard the 'click'. He took a deep breath and swung the door open. Ivan turned around, obviously startled.

"M-Matthew! He gasped, a hand on his heart. "I thought I said I didn't need you today." He said, looking away, almost as if he was ashamed.

All the anger and sadness exploded in Matthew. "WHY?!" he shouted. Ivan looked shocked at Matthew's outburst. He looked as if he was about to say something, but Matthew wouldn't let him. "You let me see you, then you don't! You talk to me about everything, then you don't! You literally lock me out, and send me notes like some little girl!" Ivan glared, but let Matthew didn't stop, he couldn't stop. "What am I to you? Just someone you feel sorry for, and pay just for the name valet? I don't do anything deserving of the title! I sit in the kitchen, and read all day because you don't need me. B-because you don't… want me." His voice broke. Ivan took a step forward, but Matthew continued. "I feel so, so useless, and terribly confused."

Ivan swallowed, "What are you confused about?"

Matthew looked at Ivan incredulously. "If… If you feel what I feel when I am here with you." He whispered. Ivan gasped. "Be... " Matthew swallowed the lump in his throat. "Because it aches when you lock me out. It hurts so bad." Ivan looked down, his eyes filling with water. "I might lose my job after this, but I need to know, Ivan." Ivan's eyes snapped to Matthew's, and his heart broke. Tears were streaming down Matthew's face, and his hand clutched at his chest as if he could cradle his shattering heart. Matthew took a shuttering breath. "Do you love me, as I love you?"

Something broke inside of Ivan. He surged forward and took Matthew's face into his hands. He stared for a moment at Matthew's bewildered eyes and smashed their lips together. He felt Matthew inhale. His body stiffened for a second before it melted into Ivan's touch.

Ivan separated from Matthew, but put their foreheads together. "I was so scared…"

Matthew grabbed Ivan's wrists gently and moved his thumb in a comforting pattern on the top of his hand. "Why?"

"I did not want to be alone in these feelings, and I was so scared that you did not feel the same." Ivan whispered, closing his eyes, relishing in this closeness with Matthew.

"So, you shut me out?" Matthew laughed a little. Ivan nodded, a small smile on his face. Matthew kissed Ivan slowly, softly. "You're such a fool."

Ivan laughed, and Matthew chuckled. "Perhaps I am, but I am yours." He rocked gently into Matthew, and Matthew let out a small noise. Matthew's purple eyes locked with Ivan's.

Matthew kissed Ivan a little harder, and more desperately. Ivan groaned and lifted Matthew without effort. Matthew wrapped his legs around Ivan's torso, and whispered in Ivan's ear.

"And I am yours."

Ivan let out a growl and laid Matthew out on his bed. Matthew looked thoroughly undone. His tie was loose, his vest crumpled. It made Ivan that much more aroused. He leaned over Matthew and kissed his neck, his tongue swirling in the juncture between his shoulder and neck before he bit down.

Matthew gasped in pain and pleasure both, his hands going to Ivan's hair. He lifted his hips, and Ivan ground down on them, making Matthew moan softly.

He glanced to the door, and smirked. "Perhaps you should, a-ah, lock the door."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HONHONHONHON ;{) OOH LALA!
> 
> Anyways. I miiiight be watching too much Downton Abbey lately… I hope you didn't mind the light FrUk, but I don't think you did.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed!


	17. Let's Take Turns

Heyo!   
This pairing is brought to you by sp8cefluff   
It is Fem!Hong Kong x Iceland!  
They aren’t really together in this one… cough cough….   
Let’s Take Turns

.1997.  
“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”   
Li looked up, her chopped hair falling into her face, her face wet with tears. Her eyes stung with the tears still unshed. “You promised you would,” she whispered, her throat closing on each word. Her tears tasted salty on her thick tongue.   
Emil scratched the back of his head in irritation. His eyes were clear, focused. Li knew he felt nothing. Nothing for her, or their friendship they had once had. “People are starting to ask questions.”  
Li stood on wobbly legs, her arms coming to protect her, even though she knew she didn’t need to. She could not die. Again.  
“What sort of questions?” She forced out. “No one asks me anything.”  
Emil exploded, his hands flying into the air, his face turning red. “That’s because you’re afraid of people! I have people who worry about me, Li! I have a girlfriend now, who worries and gets angry when I don’t go to see her, or talk to her every other week!”   
Li stepped back as Emil came closer. He had been yelling at her more and more lately. Especially since he got his girlfriend, Nikole. Emil brought his hands behind his head as Li cried harder, her face scrunched up in pain and anguish. “I- It’s not like you will age with her.” Li whispered. “You can’t grow old with her, or have children with her.”   
Emil took Li by the arms, his grip painful. “But I can spend all the time I can with her, can’t I?” Li’s brown eyes widened as she realized what he meant. She shook her head slowly.   
“Y- You can’t,” she whispered. “You can’t do this to me.”   
Emil let her go and turned on his heel. “You can’t stop me, and I can get outside faster than you, so don’t even try to beat me.”   
“N- No!” Li shouted. Emil ran from the room, and Li didn’t even follow, or attempt to move. But, by God, did she shout and scream. “You can’t, Emil! Don’t do this to me! No!” The tables and chairs shook, the lights flickered, something shattered. She heard the door slam shut, and everything went silent and still.   
She crumbled. She couldn’t leave, not until Emil came back.   
He didn’t. Not for a long, long time.  
.70 Years Ago.  
“So… I’m dead?” Emil asked, looking at his hands. They looked normal to him.  
Li giggled. “Mhm. You’re dead as a doorstop.”  
Emil nodded, “Why didn’t you tell me you were dead?”  
Li tucked some hair behind her ear. “I didn’t want to freak you out.” She reached for his hand. He took it. “I would have still liked to know that my girlfriend was dead.” Li smiled and shrugged. “I guess I’m stuck in this house just like you, huh?”   
Li sighed and leaned her head on Emil’s shoulder. “Sorta.”  
“Sorta?”  
“Well, you know how Matthew and Gilbert are together, right?”   
“Yeah?”   
“Well, the House respects the need for space. As long as one in the pair is truly in love with the other, one of them can leave the House at a time.”   
Emil looked at the ceiling, thinking. “So, since Gilbert and Matthew are in love, one of them can leave whenever they want?”   
Li nodded. “But, they both don’t have to be in love.”   
Emil stiffened slightly. “What do you mean?”  
Li sat up and took Emil’s hand in both of her own. “Like Roderich and Vash.” Emil cocked his head to the side.   
“I thought Roderich was married to Eliza.”  
Li nodded. “Yes, but Vash is in love with Roderich. It’s, of course, unrequited. So, as long as Roderich is out of the house, neither Eliza or Vash can leave… But since Roderich does not love Vash, Vash can not leave.”   
Emil shifted uncomfortably. “What about us?”   
Li smiled. “Well, I have already told you that I love you. And I meant it.”  
Emil nodded and kissed her cheek. Li ignored that he hadn’t said it back, even after all this time.   
“So how should we work out who leaves?”  
Li thought for a moment. “Let’s take turns?”   
“Okay, how?”  
“Every other week, if we want to go?”   
Emil nodded and kissed her softly. “It’s a deal.”  
.  
Their deal had worked out in the beginning. Li had gone out first since it had been so long since she had been outside. She was out for three days. The world had changed so much since she was last out. There were these boxes that showed moving pictures called televisions. Everyone was dressed differently than her. They were showing their ankles and they had no bustles. How odd.   
She didn’t like how people stared at her. Even her hair was too long. It reached her waist, but everyone else’s was up at their chin. She decided she did not like it. She did not like the outside.   
Emil came back after the full week, his eyes alight with joy, his cheeks flushed. She thought nothing of it at the time.   
After a few weeks, Li started to stay out longer, but never the full week. Unfortunately so did Emil. He began to be out two or even three weeks at a time. He would return with a sickly sweet smell, or red bruises on his neck and chest. They would fight about it. They would make up. Over and over. Rinse and repeat.   
.1995.  
“I’ve been seeing someone else.” Emil told her one day. It was Li’s week. She hadn’t left yet. She swallowed.  
“I know.” She had known for a long time, but it still stung when she heard it from his mouth. The part of her that longed for him to love her had still had some hope that he wasn’t going to see another woman, but the smell of perfume and red lipstick smears could only be explained by one thing. She faced him, her eyes wet. “I know, but I can’t help but love you still.”   
Emil looked away, somehow still able to show shame. “I never loved you, Li.”  
She nodded and went back up the stairs. She had found out she couldn’t leave the House weeks ago. “I know.”   
The front door shut behind her, and Emil was gone again.  
.2077.  
It had been 80 years when Emil came back. He had blinked and suddenly he was there, back in the House. He looked around. Someone laughed from the dining room. He leaned and looked, and smiled softly. A new family had moved in. They looked nice. A mother, father, a girl and a boy. Perfect.   
But why was he here?   
He took a step, and suddenly he was grabbed by the neck and shoved into the wall. He saw a flash of white and red. “Gilbert!” He gasped, grabbing the man’s wrist.   
“How dare you come back.” The man growled. Gilbert was a few feet taller than Emil, and he had a thick scar on his neck. Emil hadn’t finished growing before he died. He shoved Gilbert off.  
“I didn’t mean to come back.”  
He heard a snicker behind him, though it lacked any humor. He looked. It was Matthew. “I don’t know which is worse, the fact that you came back, or the fact that you didn’t want to.” Matthew had a long scar on his wrist.   
Some said he killed himself, and Gilbert followed. The House knew the truth. They were murdered for being homosexual by some neighborhood kids.   
Gilbert put an arm around Matthew. “I guess some good news comes out of this.”  
Matthew smiled and nodded, leaning into GIlbert.   
Emil shook his head, confused. “What good news?”  
Matthew smirked, and Emil got shivers. “She doesn’t love you anymore. She finally let you go.”  
.  
His steps were like lead. He felt heavy and slow.   
Somehow, in all the time he had been out, he knew that he still had someone that loved him. He wasn’t completely alone. But now that he was back, he felt like he was missing something inside of him. Perhaps it was the knowledge that his freedom was gone, but somehow, he didn’t think that was it.   
He went to the third door on the right. Her room. Even when he lived there, nothing could open the door. No key, no busting the door down had worked. But when he turned the knob it opened.  
He felt a tug in his gut when he saw her again.   
Her hair had grown out again. Her skin was perfect, perfect white. She wore a silver shawl over a white dress. Simple, but with the time period. She sat by her window, the sunlight giving her brown hair a white halo.   
His heart thundered. She was beautiful. He always thought she was beautiful, even if he never thought he loved her.   
His voice had left him, so he waited for her to say something. She took a deep breath and looked to him. She smiled that breathtaking smile.   
“Welcome back.”   
It was only then, when he was too late that he realized he had loved her all along. Li stood from her window and passed Emil, her dress floating behind her.   
Emil stood motionless, even as he heard the front door of the House being closed echo in the halls.   
Li didn’t come back for a long, long time. And when she did, she smiled at Emil, and he could say nothing, do nothing. For he had loved nothing but the freedom, and she had loved him. He had used her for her love, thinking it would last forever.  
He hoped that he would feel the tug, the sense that he could leave again. Hoped that she would love him again.   
But it didn’t come.  
Not for a long, long time.   
…  
Hm… I hope you don’t mind that they weren’t actually together…   
I liked the oddness of this chapter. It’s almost relaxing to me.  
Anyways, please like and review!


	18. Are You Ready?

Hello, good people! It’s been a hot second since I have written anything. I’ve been stupid busy with work and college and all that good stuff. I hope some of you are still with me.

This one is brought to you by: 101stellastella. And the pairing they chose was: Prussia x Monaco!! 

Again, crushing my poor PruCan heart. 

Good reading to you all!  
Are You Ready?

“I’m surprised he is still with us.”   
Ah, that line again. I get it every other day from the men in white coats, and the women in white and blue scrubs. Don’t they know an old man can still hear?   
Yes. I am old and grey. My eyes are no longer usable, though my son says they are still as red as they came. He told me I still had a head of the whitest hair, though I knew I had started balding at the tender age of forty. My body was saggy, and thin, and brittle. I shook whenever I held anything. But, yes. I am still here, alive and kicking.   
Well, not so much kicking as sleeping. She used to only appear in my dreams. She was a woman with the longest, silkiest hair I had ever seen. She has the most beautiful face. The face of an angel, with bright blue eyes and pale, flawless skin. Funnily enough, she wore red glasses.   
We spoke sometimes, her and I. She asked me so many questions.  
Was I eating well, how was my son doing, how was I doing. Sometimes we would sit in complete silence, and she would just look at me. She seemed so familiar, but no matter how many times I asked, she would only shake her head and smile, making my chest ache in the best way possible.   
Nowadays, she appeared when I was awake too. She was the only one I could see vividly. Everyone else was blurry, and out of focus, even my awesome little grandkids. Sadly, my son brought them less and less, as I got weaker and weaker.  
I am no fool. I know what is happening to me. I know that I am going soon. I couldn’t blame my son for not wanting his kids to see that.   
The woman would sit next to me as I spoke to my son sometimes. She looked at him so adoringly, but at the same time, so sadly. He never seemed to notice her. When I had brought her up, my son looked to sadly at me, I almost cried. And I don’t cry.   
More often than not, the lady would ask me the same question, day in and day out.   
“Are you ready?”  
Ready for what exactly, I wasn’t sure. But I always said I need to see my boy one more time, I need to settle this first, this, that, or the other thing. But I am getting tired, I suppose. Sometimes, I sleep for entire days. She comes more and more. She never looks at me sadly, just with a smile in her eyes and on her lips.  
She is beautiful.   
…  
“Dad?”  
I can’t bring myself to open my eyes. I am so comfortable. She is holding my hand. She is so warm, unlike this hospital room.   
“You can go now, dad.” Why are you crying, my boy? “I won’t be alone. I got my babies, and my wife.”  
I know that son. The woman is getting brighter, her skin more and more perfect. But, son, are you sure you are ready? Have I taught you enough?   
She begins to tug my arm a little. He smile is brighter than ever before.  
“You made me into the most awesome man I could be. You are the best man I have ever met.”  
I wish I could smile at my baby boy, but I am just too tired. She touches my face and I feel a tug in my stomach, in my chest, in my arms and legs.   
“Go be with mama now. I am sure she misses you, so much.”  
His mother. Ah, what an amazing woman. Gorgeous too. The woman smiles at me again, her eyes ablaze.  
“Monika?” I whisper.   
My boy laughs. It’s a wet laugh. “Yeah, Monika dad. I’m sure she is waiting for you.”  
The woman, Monika, laughs, and oh, what a sound. She tugs at my hand again. I feel my body jolt for only a second.  
I am a young man again, with a sturdy body, a head full of starlight hair. I fold my hand over hers. She leads me to a door so bright and warm, it makes me ache with longing.   
“Are you ready?”  
…


End file.
